


Stanford Pines, the Man Who Changed the World

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gay Ford Pines, Homophobic Language, Human Bill Cipher, I can and I will have all three of the ships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, It's like a biography, Just making that clear, M/M, NOT a highschool AU., Not much happens in the first chapter, Smoking/Tobacco Use, Swearing, Toxic Relationship, Triangle Bill Cipher, Trigger Warning: Anti-Homosexual Slurs, kind of major character death? You'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:41:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 24,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25643716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The story of Stanford Pines, from his beginnings in Jersey to saving Gravity Falls and beyond, plus all of his mishaps in the romance department, and how family can be harder to handle than other-dimensional beings.
Relationships: Eventual Bill Cipher/Ford Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket/Ford Pines, Ford Pines/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a Billford high school AU. just please keep that in mind when you read this. I just wanted to write Ford's story  
> a bit more in depth. It's like a biography of how Ford's life would be if this was canon. So yeah. Enjoy the fic.

Stanford Pines was struggling. And it didn't make any sense to him.

He had never struggled with schoolwork before. He was a senior in high school, so the work wasn't hard, but he still found himself losing focus. Was there something wrong with him? Instead of pulling straight A+'s, he had dropped down to A's. He would forget to write down notes in class. He would doodle in his notebooks instead of listening to presentations. He was distracted. And his teachers had begun to notice. 

One day after math class, Mr. Reid asked him to stay back for a few minutes. He sat down in the chair opposite his desk, and set down his book bag. "What's the problem, Mr. R?" he asked, sounding harsher than he had intended to.

"Stanford, you're my best student," He said, folding his hands on his desk, "But your grades are slipping. You seem distracted. Is everything alright?" Mr. Reid knew he had been bullied by a lot of the other students, and he seemed worried it might be happening again.

"No, sir, everything's fine," He lied, fumbling for a reason he may seem out of it, "It's just science fair season, so I've got a lot of work to do, is all." 

Truth was, he had finished that science fair project a week ago, and he was being bullied again. It wasn't as bad as it used to be, but they did sometimes slam him against lockers or yell at him in the halls. Three of the school's most popular football players. Two of them were rude, loud, and complete idiots, but Ford was more interested in the third. A soft spoken boy with nice hair and soft brown eyes. He always walked away from his friends when they were teasing him. Ford became curious about this boy, and even began looking for him a football games. He had soon realized he had developed a crush on him. But of course, that didn't make any sense. They were both men! did this mean he was gay? It couldn't be. His parents would kick him out! He'd have to live on the streets! He'd lose all chances he had at a higher education! 

Suddenly, he snapped back to the conversation he was having. Mr. Reid was looking at him skeptically, as if he didn't believe a word of what Ford had just said. "Well, if you're having any trouble, remember you can always talk to the school Councillor. Have a good night, son."

Ford took this as his cue to leave, and packed up his textbooks to grab his coat from his locker. 

When he got to his locker, Stanley was already waiting there for him. "hey, Poindexter!" he exclaimed, punching him on the shoulder, "What'd Mr. R want from you?"

"he wanted to know if I was interested in extra-credit," Ford lied.

"Yeah, that's horseshit," Stanley replied, laughing, "You've already got perfect grades. Now come on and tell me what he really wanted."

Ford sighed. Stan always knew when he was lying. "He wanted to know if everything was alright. He said my grades were slipping. And he's right."

"That's no good, Sixer. You're the smartest guy I know, though, so I'm sure they can't drop too far," He said in a weak attempt to console him, "But why are they falling?"

"I don't know, I guess I'm just distracted lately," He shrugged, closing his locker and beginning to walk down the hall.

"Is it those guys that've been bullying you again?" He cracked his knuckles. "Those bastards, I'm gonna--"

"No, Lee, it's not them," Ford interrupted, "I don't want to talk about it right now. Lets just go home."


	2. Chapter 2

When Stan and Ford got home, the pawn shop was closed, and the apartment door had a note on it, written in their mother's neat script, reading: "Going out for the weekend. Money for food on the counter. Love, Mom and Dad."

Stanley used his key to unlock the door (Ford had lost his months prior) and they walked in and put down their stuff. Ford started on his homework, while his brother went about sorting out dinner. He had always been good like that. Always the practical brother. Ford may have been book smart, but he certainly wasn't street smart like Stan. He couldn't even make a phone call without getting anxious. And yet Stanley--

His mind refocused on what he was doing. Trigonometry. Due tomorrow. Only seven questions. Right. He focused in for the half hour it took him to finish it, then sat down in the twins shared bedroom. He started messing around with his science fair project, a perpetual motion machine, doing maintenance checks that didn't need to be done, unscrewing and re-screwing pieces that wouldn't need to be checked for a few more weeks at least. Trying to find something to do that didn't involve being left alone with his own thoughts. He finished his poster-board that night, too, all before Stan finished cooking dinner. 

Stanley came into the room. "Hey Poindexter, dinner's ready," he said, leaning against the door frame.

He muttered a "thanks," Before heading to their small kitchenette/dinning room. Stan had made boxed mac and cheese, and it was exactly the comfort food he needed. He sat down to eat, only to find he wasn't that hungry, so he just pushed it around in the bowl for a bit, deciding to try and handle the thoughts he had been having. He couldn't be gay, right? He'd never even met a gay person before. He hadn't really thought much about attraction his whole life, simply deciding his education was more important, but now he could remember times when his eyes lingered a little too long on the lips of male classmates, how sometimes he would freeze up after brushing against his friends hand in the hallway. So... maybe he was gay. 

That was the first step, wasn't it? Acceptance? But where could he go from here? He pushed around his mac and cheese a little more. There wasn't really anywhere to go with this. He'd just have to keep it to himself for as long as it took. Maybe this was a phase, and would just pass by if he ignored it. No, if this was a phase then it had been happening for longer than average. Nearly his whole life, in fact. But he could hide it! Yes, that was it, he'd keep it hidden away until he was at least living on his own. That could work!

Stan seemed to be noticing his strange behavior now. "You okay, Sixer?" he asked tentatively, "I thought you liked mac and cheese."

"Oh, what? Yeah, it's really good," Ford lied, taking a bite. it was good, but he hadn't eaten any of it until now.

"Alright, that's it," Stan said, putting his bowl in the sink, "Get off your bullshit, Ford. Tell me what's wrong."

"I told you, Lee, I don't want to talk about it," He replied, putting some saran wrap over his bowl, intending to eat it later, then attempting to leave the kitchen. But Stan blocked the doorway. 

"I won't let you leave until you tell me what's wrong," He said firmly, "and you know you can't beat me in a fight. Is it those bastards from the hallway? Are you failing gym class again? Trouble with schoolwork? Come on, you can talk to me! I'm your brother!"

"Lee, let me out!" he complained, but Stan shook his head.

"Mom and Pop aren't even home, I won't rat you out," He said, and Ford saw genuine sincerity in his eyes. If he could trust anyone, it'd be his twin brother, right? He'd stuck up for him all his life, maybe this wouldn't be any different?

He took a deep breath and ran a six-fingered hand through his hair. Stanford Pines, the six-fingered gay kid, he thought bitterly. Well, might as well just do it. Like ripping off a band-aid. "Stan, I'm gay."

"Ford, just tell me what's wrong! There's no use in lying,"

"Stanley Pines. I swear to you I am not lying. I'm gay." He said firmly, the realized what he'd said. The pushed past his brother, who was still shocked, and ran to their bedroom. He climbed onto his bunk, waiting for judgement or hate from his brother. he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. What had he done? This was it, wasn't it? Stanley was going to tell their parents and they would kick him out. He'd just jeopardized his chances at any formal education, or a job, for the rest of his life. His school and teachers would find out, and instead of being a top student, he'd have to drop out. He'd never even get a high school diploma, making him virtually useless. God, he couldn't think about it anymore. He felt the tears flow down his face, and he turned toward the wall, letting himself cry it out. Then he heard the door open.

He wiped the tears off his face and braced himself for hatred, insults, judgement, something, but none came. Instead Stan just stood there. "Well, I don't really get it all that much, but I saw those protests on the news, and I don't believe what all those psychologists are saying. There isn't anything wrong with you. You're pretty alright," he stopped and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, "I won't tell Mom and Pa, okay?"

Stanford felt his eyes flood with tears, this time for a different reason. He didn't say anything, just just climbed down from his bunk and hugged his brother tightly, so grateful it was beyond articulation. "Thank you, Lee," He said quietly.

"Yeah, no problem, Sixer," He laughed, "he could you do me a favor? My essay is due tomorrow, can you read it over for me?"

"Anything for the brother that just saved my ass," He said simply. He felt instantly better after telling him. It was good to know that when you can't even tell your parents about something, you can trust your brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am putting this chapter out a four in the morning. Do you guys see how I suffer for you? This chapter was really hard to write for me, and before any of you go sounding off about how it's not realistic, I've had these exact thoughts Ford has in this chapter before, and I came out in the 21st century. Imagine how bad it would be in the late 60s- early 70s? Yikes. Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, next one will be out shortly!


	3. Chapter 3

Ford finished reading over his brother's essay, and it was surprisingly solid, and he knew that when Stan handed it in tomorrow, he'd get at the very least an 80%. Except... He couldn't hand it in tomorrow, it was Friday night! Oh Stan, that sly bastard, he'd known he was stressed out and gave him something to take his mind off of it. And it had, he looked at the clock and realized it was almost eleven o'clock! He still hadn't eaten anything, and he sure as hell didn't feel like it, but he supposed he should. So he went to the kitchen and grabbed a granola bar, and brewed some coffee. Coffee had a sort of opposite effect on him, helping him calm down rather than giving him energy, so he always had a few cups a day. He was a bit of an addict, he'd supposed. 

Stanley was still in the living room, watching television. This was a weekend ritual for him, watching TV upside down on the couch while playing with his paddle ball. Ford had no idea how he had gotten that good at it, he would say it was hand-eye coordination but he was never looking at it while he did it. Ford poured out his coffee and began drinking it black. Stan finally noticed him standing in the kitchen and sat up. 

"Hey, Sixer!" he said, waving, "how was my essay?"

"Really good, actually, I'm proud of you, Lee," he replied, taking a big sip of his coffee.

"Great. Now finish that coffee and get in the car, we're going to the swing-set."

"Lee, it's eleven o'clock!" he exclaimed, "We can't go to the beach!"

"Ah, sure we can. Not like anyone's gonna mess with us after that stuff we pulled back when we were 12," He said, grabbing his car keys, "besides, you need a little childhood nostalgia right about now."

Ford couldn't argue with that. He threw back the rest of his coffee, scalding his mouth, and pulled on his jacket before heading out the door. They drove the few miles to the beach, while Stan played his rock songs obnoxiously loud. Ford couldn't help but sing along, and the two were laughing by the time they reached the beach. When they got there, Stan parked the car and pulled off his shirt. "Race you to the water!" he exclaimed, and began running out of the car.

"hey, no fair!" he yelled back, ripping off his own shirt and jacket and following him to the shoreline. He splashed into the water where Stan was already swimming. It wasn't clean water, (they lived in Jersey, mind you) but it was fine for swimming if you could ignore the trash on the bottom.

Ford swam over and splashed his brother. "You got a head start, you big cheater!" he yelled, and Stan laughed.

"When have you known me not to cheat at something, Sixer?" he joked, and they laughed harder. They hadn't done anything this recklessly fun in a long time, and Ford's nostalgia and general relief from the day were washing over him in waves. 

"Hey, I'll race you out to the dock!" Ford said, and immediately began swimming toward the small dock further out from the shore so as to get Stan back for cheating earlier. But even if he hadn't cheated, he would have won, his brother had never been good at swimming, he insisted he had "dense bones". He pulled himself up onto the wooden island, and waited for Stan to swim over, he got there and pulled himself up. They sat there for a while, looking at the stars. Ford was always interested in space, what could be lying out there in the cosmos waiting for them? But Stan wasn't nearly as interested as him, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"hey, watch this," he said, and made a running jump into the water, making a huge splash. Ford laughed until Stan resurfaced, a look of pain on his face.

"Lee? What happened?" He said, concerned, and stood up from the dock. 

"Well," he said through a grimace, "there's a reason they call it glass shard beach."

"Ah shit. Can you swim back to shore? I've got a first aid kit in my jacket pocket."

"Yeah, I can make it, give me a minute, though." He replied, still in pain.

Ford slid into the water and swam with Stan back to the shoreline. He let him put his arm around his shoulder so he could walk to the swing-set without getting sand in the cut. He went to the car and grabbed his jacket, taking out the small first aid kit he had with him, desperately trying to remember the bits of first aid he had learned in boy scouts. He took out some tweezers and yanked out the piece of broken glass in Stan's foot, causing him to yelp with pain. "Sorry," he muttered, then took out some antiseptic. "This is probably going to hurt more." he said, applying some to a cotton swab like he had been taught, then rubbing it on the cut. Stan yelped again, but when Ford looked up, he was acting as if it didn't hurt at all. He bandaged it, then got up and sat on the swing beside him. "There. It probably won't fall off," he said, and the two laughed. It was a line their mother used to use when they got hurt as kids.

"Thanks, Sixer, I owe you one," Stan said, gesturing at his foot.

"Lee, after what you said earlier, this makes us even, okay?" He replied earnestly, then his tone turned more serious. "You promise you won't tell Mom and Pa?" He could hear the anxiety in his own voice, but he didn't care if Stan heard it.

"I swear on it, Ford," He said, and for once, Ford knew he was telling the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. Chapter done. I just really wanted to write something happy before the next chapter, which is gonna be wild. Until then, ciao!


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next few weeks, Ford's grades began to rise again. Just telling someone had lightened the burden immensely, and he was less distracted. Science fair was coming up, and he decided to revamp his project. Instead of just being a perpetual motion machine (an impressive feat in itself) he could hook up a generator to it, and essentially provide infinite energy to a load, like a lamp. It would change renewable tech!

On the day he was to present it, he set up in the gym excitedly. This project was sure to win, the only other exciting thing in that gym was a baking soda volcano. The teachers came around for judging first, and he gave them his pitch: infinite renewable energy! They seemed impressed before moving on, and once they had finished judging, the rest of the student body was allowed in to look at the projects. Ford's was largely ignored; Why watch a machine spin and listen to some nerd talk when you could watch a baking soda volcano explode?

There was one boy that came to his project, though; the boy he had had a crush on. Ford hadn't thought about him in weeks, but there he was in his varsity jacket, scrutinizing his project. "So, a perpetual motion machine, huh?" He asked, "Doesn't that go against the first and second laws of thermodynamics?"

"Well, technically, yes, but rules are made to be broken," He shrugged, then stuck out his hand, "Stanford Pines, everyone calls me Ford. Great to meet you."

The boy took his hand. "Thomas Fletcher, everyone calls me Tom," he replied, then looked down at Ford's hand, "Whoa, you have six fingers, that's kinda neat," he then seemed to put two and two together. "Oh, you're Ford! I'm so sorry about my friends, they're kinda dicks but no one else is friends with them and I felt bad."

"Oh, them? they're not so bad," Ford laughed, "Believe it or not, this is not nearly the worst bullying I've had at school. You're on the football team, right? You're a great receiver," Ford hoped he wouldn't have to talk anymore about football, since he had just expended all of his sports knowledge in a single sentence.

"Eh, I'm okay," Tom replied, shrugging, "Coach mostly uses me as a bench-warmer, though. Gives me time to do my homework, I guess." He checked the clock and looked shocked. "Oh, I've gotta go, I've got practice in 10 minutes, See you around, Ford!" And with that he left. 

Ford breathed a sigh of relief. He was pretty smooth, right? He didn't seem weird? Then Stanley ran over. "Oh my god, Ford!" he exclaimed, "You talked to him! And you weren't weird or anything!" He had told Stan about his crush, but made him promise not to try and set them up or anything. They could be in big trouble if anyone found out. 

"Shh, Stan, this is a public space!" He said cautiously, "But yes, I did talk to him."

"I am so proud of you, bro!" he said in a stage whisper.

Suddenly, the microphone at the front of the gym blared to life. They were finally announcing prizes! The third place prize went to a kid who played heavy metal music at his plants, and the runner up went to volcano girl. And first place was... Ford! They presented the trophy, and Stan jumped in the picture with him. And in that moment, everything was perfect. 

Stan and Ford went and got their stuff from their lockers after that, since they still had afternoon classes. They had their next class, English, together, but it was interrupted by the intercom, calling the Pines twins to the principal's office. "Ugh, what now?" Stan joked, and the two walked down. They went to walk into the office, but the secretary stopped them. 

"Not you, just him." She said, pointing to Ford. She had never learned their names, so she always called them down together. Stan shrugged and sat down outside the door, and Ford walked into the office to find his parents and the principal waiting for him. He sat down nervously, sure they had found out about his little secret.

"Mr. Pines, I'd like to speak with you very frankly," The principal started.

"Very frankly is the only way I speak," His father replied, only succeeding in making Ford more nervous.

"You have two sons. One of them is incredibly gifted," he said, gesturing while he said it, "The other one is standing outside this room and his name is Stanley."

Ford couldn't help but feel guilty when he said that. He looked away, not sure how to respond to something like that. Thankfully, his mother responded for him. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying your son Stanford is a genius!" he exclaimed, standing up, "All his teachers are going bananas over his science fair experiment. You ever heard of West Coast Tech?" he handed them a pamphlet. "best college in the country. Their graduates turn science fiction into science fact! the admissions team is visiting tomorrow to check out Stanford's experiment. Your son may be a future millionaire Mr. Pines."

"I'm impressed," his dad said, and Stanford couldn't help but feel a bit bitter at those words. Always one to look for money, his father.

"But what about our little free spirit Stanley?" His mother asked, mirroring his thoughts exactly. Sometimes he wondered if she was a real psychic after all.

"That clown? At this rate, he'll be lucky to graduate high school," The principal said, and Ford felt unreasonably angry. He had been improving his grades! And he could do things Ford could never do, like cook or make phone calls without having anxiety attacks. "there's a salt water taffy stand over on the dock, somebody's gotta get paid to scrub the barnacles off of it! Stanford's going places! But hey, look on the bright side, at least you'll have one son here in Jersey forever!" Ford wanted to stand up, to yell, to tell him that his brother was not any less smart than Ford, just different, but he didn't. He just sat silently in his chair looking at his West Coast Tech pamphlet. It really was a great school, and... 

"It would be a great opportunity for me!" he said later on the swing set with Stan, after he had asked him what he was going to do. "But hey, if they don't like my project, we can sail around the world, just like we planned!"

"Yeah, right," Stan replied, and they drove home for the night. Once they got home, Stan said he was going for a drive to clear his head, and Ford thought nothing of it at the time. He went to bed, intending to get a good night's sleep before presenting in front of the admissions board tomorrow. when he woke up, he put on a nice dress shirt and a bowtie on his father's request. First impressions are important, as he always said. Stan drove him to school, and while he went home (since he was presenting on a Saturday), Ford headed to the gym to do his presentation. 

"Alright kid, show us what you got," The man there said, sounding almost bored. Ford knew he would have to double down on this one, this pitch had to be better than any of his previous ones combined. Just pretend you're talking to Tom, he told himself when he felt his nerves overwhelm him.

"Okay! Well, what would you say if I told you the future of technology was beneath this sheet!" he said, pulling away the sheet from his project. 

"I'd say we wasted a car trip," he replied, deadpan.

"What?" he exclaimed, looking at his project, which was very clearly broken. "But it was stable yesterday! A fuse must have blown, or something!"

"Kid, a perpetual motion machine has one job: to not stop," he said, crossing something off his list, "I don't think you're west coast tech material." The admissions team turned and left, and he felt all the hope drain from his body at this sight. One of them stepped on something on the way out of the gym, and Ford looked down at it. An empty bag of toffee peanuts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo boy, that was a long one. I'll have the next one up really soon, since this one is mostly just me retelling the events of the show from Ford's perspective. There will be a big twist away from canon in the next one, so be ready for that. Until then, see ya later!


	5. Chapter 5

As he watched the admissions board leave, he picked up the empty bag. It certainly hadn't been there yesterday, and Toffee Peanuts were Stan's favorite. Wait... No. He didn't, did he? Stan must have come to the gym last night and sabotaged his project so he'd go sailing with him! That bastard ruined his future! He crushed the bag in his hand, completely enraged by Stan's stupid actions. He stuffed the package in his bag and walked to the bus stop, feeling betrayed.

He walked into the apartment to see Stan sitting on the couch, playing with his paddle ball. His weekend ritual. "Hey, what's the word, Sixer?" he asked, sitting up, but Ford was having none of it.

"Can you explain what this was doing next to my broken project?" He said harshly, holding up the empty toffee peanuts bag.

"Okay. I might have accidentally been... horsing around," He started, but Ford interrupted him angrily. 

"This was no accident Stan, you did this! You did this because you couldn't handle me going to college on my own!"

"Look, it was a mistake!" Stan shouted back, gesturing wildly, "Although if you think about it, maybe there's a silver lining. Treasure hunting?" he smiled hopefully.

Ford couldn't control his anger at this point. "Are you kidding me? Why would I want to do anything with the person that sabotaged my entire future!" he shoved him square in the chest, and he fell back into the couch.

"You did what you knucklehead?" Their father said, as he held up Stan by his shirt collar.

"Stanley? What's going on in here?" Their mother said, holding their baby brother and looking like she'd just woken up.

"I can explain, it was a mistake!" Stanley said in a pleading tone, and Ford almost felt bad for him. The wrath of their father was not something easily handled. But then he did something even Ford wasn't expecting. He dragged Stan by the collar to the front door, and threw him out onto the street.

"You ignoramus! Your brother was gonna be our ticket out of this dump!" He yelled, and Ford felt a little bit bothered by these words. His father only saw him as a potential sale, nothing more. "All you ever do is lie, and cheat, and ride on your brother's coattails. Well this time, you may have cost us potential millions. And until you make us a fortune you're not welcome in this household!" he threw his school bag at him and stood there, towering over him on the steps. Stanford watched from their bedroom window as Stan spit onto the sidewalk then stood up.

"You know what? I can make it on my own. I don't need you, I don't need anyone!" He yelled, then looked up at Ford in the bedroom window, and glared at him. Then, in one final act of defiance, he looked back to his father. "Oh, and by the way, your perfect son is a faggot." And with that, he drove off. 

Ford stood in shock. He didn't think Stan would go that far. He watched as his father looked up into his window, then began marching up the stairs.

He backed away into his room, breathing heavily. Instinctively, he reached up and grabbed his "go bag" from the top bunk of the bed, hurrying to put on a jacket as he heard his Father's thundering footsteps coming up the stairs. He then burst into the room, looking angry, but in a cold way, not the explosive anger he had just unleashed on Stan. "So, is it true?" He asked, and when Ford didn't respond, he nodded. "I thought so. Get out of my house." 

"But, Pa--" he began, but his father slapped him across the face.

"I said get out of my house, you fucking faggot!" he yelled. There was the explosive anger. He walked out of his bedroom, hanging his head. as he left, he looked around quickly at all the things he would never see again: Their beat-up old couch, the family photos hanging on the walls, and, most importantly, his mother. 

"Bye, Mom," he said quietly, but she didn't respond, instead turning away from him to hide her tears. He walked down the stairs and out the front door, unsure of what to do. He knew his father was watching him, so he went and stood in the alley beside their house to catch his breath. He didn't have a car, nor did he have any place to go. he hadn't planned for the worst-case scenario since he had been sure his brother wouldn't tell anyone. He felt tears flowing freely down his face. What could he do? 

He then got an idea. He'd have to keep attending school, otherwise he'd never make it to college. So he took his old bike from beside the house and began to ride it up toward the school. The chain was rusty and it definitely needed some work done, but it was functional. Once he got to the school, he walked his bike through the thick group of trees that was beside it. Inside, there was a maintenance shed that no one ever used. He parked his bike outside the shed and opened the door. Home sweet home, he thought bitterly, and closed the door behind him, putting the lock on the door so no one would find him like this. He sat down his bag and dug out a granola bar; He hadn't eaten anything that day since he was too nervous about his presentation. Wait, what would he do about food? Well, he could volunteer in the cafeteria, they usually got to take home leftovers... And he could shower in the locker rooms... 

All of these thoughts were just succeeding in making him feel more and more helpless. So he laid his bag down on it's side, using it as a makeshift pillow, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was something. Sorry I made it kinda sad, but you know, I did what I had to to to make an interesting fic. Next chapter should be up really soon. Ciao!


	6. Chapter 6

Ford woke up the next morning to his watch beeping, and groaned while sitting up. The shed was fine enough, but it held the late spring heat really well, so he was pretty hot. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and attempted to shake some of the dust off his clothes. He wanted to get to the school early so he would have time to sign up for the cafeteria shift, and so that no one would see him leaving the shed. He checked his appearance in his watch reflection before leaving: He looked like Hell, but at least his hair was okay.

He left for the day, feeling pretty good about himself. He could make it on his own! He was a mature young adult, and nothing was going to stop him from--

Ah shit. His bike had been stolen. In it's place sat a sticky note, reading: "Sorry man, but I need the cash." He supposed he wouldn't be using it too much, though, and besides, Ford could relate. He continued walking toward the school, being careful no one saw him, and walked through the front doors and to the cafeteria.

"Hello, I'm Stanford Pines, here to sign up for a cafeteria shift," he said politely, and the lunch lady nodded at him.

"Yeah, I know you, Pines. What're you doing signing up for Caf duty?" She said, scribbling his name down on the list.

Ford couldn't tell her that he'd been kicked out. If word got around, he'd be bullied worse than ever before. "Oh, well, volunteering looks great on a college application!" He lied.

She looked at him skeptically, then nodded again. Ford took this as his cue to leave, and headed up to his locker. The halls were more crowded now, and class would start in about fifteen minutes. He decided being a little early to History class never hurt anybody, so he went over early and sat in his desk reviewing for the fifteen minutes before class. Exams were coming up soon, and he intended to pass with flying colors. The class was boring, a lecture on The Civil War, nothing he hadn't heard before. Most of science class was just as bad, and as if to add insult to injury, his teacher gave him a 98% on his science fair experiment. 

Lunch wasn't great, since volunteering at the Caf wasn't fun, but he did get some leftovers he could eat later that night. Then came his shared period with Stan, English. and it just confirmed his suspicions: Stan wasn't going to school anymore. The desk next to him was empty. After that he had his spare, which he got halfway through the semester because he finished the math coursework early. He sat in the students lounge on the upper floor, reading through his notes, when he noticed someone sit down across from him: Tom.

"Hey," Tom said, setting down his text books, "You on your spare?"

"Yeah, you are too I suppose?" He replied, trying to act casual.

"Yeah, trying to cram for my test tomorrow," He said, sighing and opening up his textbook. "Mr. Namara, Math. If I fail I'll get kicked off the football team."

"Oh man, Mr. Namara is the worst," Ford said, cringing and remembering his freshman year with him, "Do you want some help studying? You seem to be pretty good at physics, based on your assessment of my perpetual motion machine, and this stuff isn't much harder."

"To be honest with you, I heard you were making a perpetual motion machine, so I researched them in the library before science fair so I could talk to you about something," he laughed, "Just to apologize, of course."

"Well, to be honest with you, I expended all of my knowledge of football as an excuse to talk to you, so I think we're even," he joked. They started studying together from that day on. 

Most of Ford's days were the same. Same classes, Caf duty, English, then his spare with Tom. He and Tom had really hit it off, and they were starting to hang out more and more. He was doing okay, besides the fact that he had lost about 20 pounds from subsisting on cafeteria leftovers alone, and that showering in the locker room was not an easy task when you weren't on one of the school teams. He tried to get one in every few days, but it was getting harder as the hot weather continued and new teams were playing. One day after he woke up in the morning with a particularly aching neck, he forgot to check for teams before heading outside. When he walked outside, the football team was doing their between season training. He hurried into the school, but not before he was spotted by one Tom Fletcher.

Later that day, during his spare, Tom met with him without any of his textbooks. "What's going on, no studying today?" he asked, but Tom held up his hand.

"Ford, are you okay?" He asked earnestly, "You've been losing weight, and showering less often, and today I saw you leaving that old maintenance shed in the trees before school even started. Plus your brother hasn't been to class for weeks. You can talk to me, Ford. Tell me what's wrong."

Ford panicked a little. He had hoped no one would find out, but here the worst possible person did. What could he say? Yet... Something was compelling him to tell the truth. he had been talking to Tom for quite some time, and he didn't seem like a bad guy. In fact, he didn't even hang out with his dumb friends anymore. "Well, truth is," he looked around to make sure no one else was in the hallway, "I got kicked out."

"Oh wow, Ford, I wish you'd told me sooner," he said, and Ford breathed a sigh of relief. "Why were you kicked out?" 

Well, this was it. He'd dug his own grave here. might as well go all the way then, huh? "I'm gay," He said quietly, and Tom frowned.

"Well, that's a stupid reason to kick someone out," Tom replied, looking a bit angry. "I mean, I am too, but my parents didn't give two shits."

Ford's face lit up. "Wait, you're gay?" he asked, incredulous, and Tom nodded.

"But don't tell anyone else that, you very well know I wouldn't be welcome on the football team if anyone found out," he said, and Ford nodded as if to say 'your secret's safe with me.' Tom continued, "You can come stay at my place if you like, I'm sure it's a hell of a lot nicer than that shed."

"Really?" Ford asked, incredibly grateful, "I really owe you one, Tom. You're a lifesaver."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a nice chapter to write. Things are finally looking up for Ford, which is just fun to write. I hope you enjoyed. Next chapter should be up by tomorrow. Ciao!


	7. Chapter 7

After their spare, Tom went with Ford to collect his things from the shed. He had sufficiently spread out in there in the few weeks he'd been living in it, and while he was gathering his stuff, Tom walked into the shed. He looked around at the dusty floors, the leak in the roof, and the cockroaches that living in the corner. "Jeez, Ford, you lived like this?" He said in an almost sad tone.

Ford shrugged as he gathered the last of the items into his bag. "It's not so bad once you get used to it, really." He pulled out his cafeteria leftovers from the day and took a bite of the (probably cardboard) pizza, then held out the container to Tom. "You want anything? There's a fruit cup in there you can have, I'm allergic to pineapple."

Tom sighed and looked down at the sad container of cafeteria food. "This is what you've been eating? Come on, let's get you a proper meal and a shower." Ford picked up his bag and walked with him back to the parking lot. "My mom should be here soon, I think."

Within a few minutes, a car pulled up in front of them on the curb. "Hey Ma," Tom said, opening the door, "This is Stanford, can he stay with us? His parents kicked him out and he's been living at the school."

"Oh, of course he can stay with us!" She said warmly, and smiled at him, "It's lovely to meet you Stanford, I'm Mrs. Fletcher." She had the same hair as her son, chestnut brown, but instead of Tom's warm brown eyes, she had the most striking green ones.

"Hello Mrs. Fletcher, it's lovely to meet you as well," He said politely, extending his hand to shake hers.

She shook, looking down at his hand while she did so. "Oh, you're the one my son's been talking about! With the six fingers!"

"You've been talking about me?" Ford asked, looking at Tom, who just blushed. 

"Get in the car, nerd," He said. 'Nerd' had become a form of endearment they used, and since Tom's friends used to bully him, it was a bit ironic. They got in the car, both of them in the backseat.

"Seatbelts?" Mrs. Fletcher asked, looking at them in the rear-view mirror, and the nodded. As she drove out of the school's parking lot, she looked at Ford in the mirror again. "If you don't mind me asking, Stanford, why did you get kicked out?"

Ford looked at Tom for reassurance, and he nodded. "Well Mrs. Fletcher, I'm gay." He said, taking a deep breath.

"Hmm. Did you tell them yourself, or...?" She replied.

"Well, it was a bit of an accident they found out," he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, "My brother said he wouldn't tell anyone, but he told my dad, and..." he trailed off a bit before clearing his throat. "I don't really want to talk about it ma'am."

"You poor thing! You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, dear," She said in a warm voice, reminding him of his own mother. Soon enough, they arrived at a cute house in the suburbs near the school. "And here we are!" She got out of the car, and the boys followed suit, "Tom, Stanford can stay in your room. You boys go put your stuff away, then I expect you in the kitchen to help me with dinner!"

The boys did as told, and Ford marveled at the house as they walked upstairs. It was larger than it looked from the outside, and every room was painted a different yet complementary color. It was really nice. The arrived upstairs, and Tom had a bunk bed, the kind with a futon on the bottom and a regular bed on top. Tom paused for a second to shove some stuff into his closet, then gestured to the bed. "You can take whichever bunk, I'm usually on the top but you can have it if you like."

Ford thought back to his brother's and his bunk bed, where he always slept on top because Stan was scared of heights. "I'm fine with the bottom, thanks." He dropped his stuff on the bunk and turned to Tom again. "Tom, this is amazing. thank you so much."

"Hey, it's nothing, alright?" he said, smiling at him, "Now come on, let's go help Ma with dinner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie to you, this is mostly just a filler chapter. I kinda liked writing it though. Anyway, I'll try to put more substance in future chapters. Also, when reading through this fic, please keep in mind that in order to get a chapter out every day, I don't edit all that much, so spelling mistakes may be common. The next chapter should be out tomorrow! Until then, smell ya later!


	8. Chapter 8

The boys headed downstairs, and Mrs. Fletcher got them started on chopping vegetables. Ford was no chef, but chopping was easy, mindless work, and there was no way he could catch the oven on fire if he wasn't using it. While they were chopping, Ford quizzed Tom on the periodic table, since he had a text the next day.

"Okay, what element has a atomic number of 83?" Ford asked. He had the table memorized, so it wasn't hard for him, but Tom had really been struggling with the atomic numbers of certain elements.

"Oh! I actually know this one! Bismuth!" Tom exclaimed.

"Yes! I knew you could do it! What about...?" He began to ask, but trailed off as he heard someone come to the door. "Is someone here?"

"Yeah, I think Dad's home," Tom replied, craning his neck to see into the front room. "Hey Pa!"

"Hey there, champ," He said as he walked in the door, hanging up his jacket.

"Pa, this is Stanford, he's gonna be staying with us,"

"Hey there, Stanford, I'm Mr. Fletcher. Good to meet you," Tom's father said, holding out a hand to shake.

"Good to meet you too, sir," Ford said as politely as he could, shaking the man's hand. He was a bit intimated by him, certainly, he reminded him a lot of his own father.

"Ah, no need to call me sir, kid, you live here now!" He joked, and Ford laughed nervously. "What's for dinner, hon?" He walked into the kitchen, giving his wife a quick peck on the cheek.

"Potato casserole should be ready soon, and the boys are making salad. Could you set the table for me?" She replied, and he grabbed some plates and forks to do as told. 

A few minutes later, the table was set, and him and Tom had put the salad in a bowl. It looked lovely, but only served to remind Ford of what he was missing back home. The sat around the table and joined hands, so Ford supposed they were praying. He bowed his head and instinctively muttered a Jewish blessing before meals that he had memorized when he was younger. The rest of the family began a catholic prayer he didn't know, so he sat in silence till they were finished. "Stanford, what was that prayer you said just now? I don't think I've head one like that before," Mrs. Fletcher asked, and Ford blushed a little out of embarrassment. 

"Oh, yeah, it's a Jewish prayer we used to say back home," He said, embarrassed that he didn't just keep quiet. 

"Well, that's kinda cool," Tom said, saving his ass, "I didn't know you were Jewish."

"Yeah, we were mostly non-practicing, though," He replied, thankful for something to talk about, "We never really went to Temple, except for holidays."

"Sounds like us with mass!" Mr. Fletcher joked, and the rest of the family laughed.

The dinner conversation grew quiet as everyone ate, and Ford felt like he had to say something to break the silence. "By the way, Mr. And Mrs. Fletcher, you have a lovely home," He said awkwardly. It was true, their house was about 2 times the size of their apartment.

"Thank you Stanford," Mrs. Fletcher replied, taking it in stride, "Where did you live before the whole uh, 'incident'?"

"Oh, I lived in an apartment, kinda near downtown?" He fumbled for a second, then snapped his fingers, "you know where Pines Pawn is? That's us, we're the Pines family."

"Wait, you're Stanford Pines?" Mrs. Fletcher asked excitedly, "I saw your mother at the school once, just singing your praises!"

"That's nice to hear..." Ford said, trying not to sound sad at the mention of his mother.

"Pines..." Mr. Fletcher mused, "Stanford, do you happen to have a brother?"

"Yes, I do, Stanley Pines! Why, have you seen him?" Ford asked.

"Yes, he was selling stuff down on the doc a week ago, but it was all junk," Mr. Fletcher replied, "Last I heard he had to get out of town because everyone wanted their money back."

"That's my brother, alright..." Ford said, disappointed yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I was gonna put more substance in future chapters, but I was in a funk and had to write something simple. Sorry this is a day late, I just couldn't bring myself to write yesterday. It probably won't happen again. Next chapter should be out by tomorrow. Until then, ciao!


	9. Chapter 9

The boys finished dinner and put their plates away, then Tom suggested they go to his room to study for a bit. Ford had no objection to this, and he wanted Tom to pass his test in a few days, so they headed upstairs. But instead of studying,Tom sat him down on the futon. "Okay, you're clearly not telling me everything that happened with your brother, and how you got kicked out. I know you don't want to talk about it, but it's unhealthy to keep your feelings to yourself, and I care about you, Ford." He said this gently, and put his hand on his shoulder.

"You really want to hear it?" He asked, and to Ford's surprise, Tom nodded. Back home, talking about your feelings just wasn't the thing to do. You voice your grievances, no one cares, then it's over. This was new to him. "Well, you remember my science fair project, right? My brother..." He told him the whole story, and it came out in a rush of words, as if his mind had been waiting for this release. When he got to the part where his brother outed him, he felt tears flowing down his face. He had bottled it up, keeping to to himself while he was more focused on his own survival. He buried his face in his hands, but continued talking. He couldn't stop if he had wanted to. 

As he finished, he kept his head down and tucked his knees up, mortified he had said anything. he had just told his most important life details to Tom of all people, and now he probably hated him. Or at the very least, thought he was weird. He heard Tom leave the room, and was disappointed, but not surprised. He shouldn't have said anything. Ford was just getting up to pack his things, when he heard Tom returning. 

He walked into the room with two cups of coffee and a blanket. "Stand up for a second, Ford?" he asked, and when Ford obliged, he pulled the futon out into a bed. He grabbed a few pillows from the top bunk and tossed them down, then handed him a coffee. Black, just how he liked it. "You need some comfort, Ford. Sit down, let's play a game or something." he pulled a pack of cards from his pocket.

Ford sat down on the bed, and Tom sat down with him, and wrapped the blanket around them both. It was a bit chilly, so Ford appreciated the gesture. While he was doing this, Tom also put his arm around Ford's shoulder for a second, which Ford didn't mind, either. Ford decided to make a rash move and lean up against him, and Tom didn't make any objections. If anything, it felt like he moved closer. Tom took the cards out of the pack, and shuffled them for a bit. "So, what do you want to play?"

"I don't know, you pick," Ford replied, yawning. 

"Do you wanna just sit and chat for a bit?" Tom said, somehow perfectly interpreting the yawn. Ford nodded, and he put the cards back in the pack, the tossed it onto the floor. Then he moved his arm back up under the blanket and wrapped it around Ford's shoulders. He looked over at Tom who wasn't saying anything, but that action had said enough. He leaned in against Tom's chest a little more, and felt safe and comfortable.

"You know," Tom started, in an attempt to make conversation, "I never understood how you liked that stuff," he gestured to Ford's black coffee, "I have to put three sugars in it to make it taste even decent."

"You like your coffee sweet?" Ford asked, smiling. "I thought you were mister big strong football player."

"Just 'cause I like sweet things does not mean I'm not a tough dude!" He said in an attempt to sound manly, but it was hard when he had a blanket tucked around him.

"I think you're a very tough dude, Tom," Ford replied, and in his bravest move of the night, kissed him on the cheek. Tom blushed profusely, and Ford started to apologize. He had gone too fast and blown this friendship. "I'm so sorry, Tom, I shouldn't have--" He started, but Tom silenced him with a kiss. On the lips!

If you had asked the Ford from three months ago who he thought his first kiss would be with, he never would have said Thomas Fletcher, receiver on the school football team. Ford melted into it, completely content, and even as they broke apart, Ford continued leaning into his chest, desperate for the contact. "Well," Tom said quietly, "That was kind of amazing."

"Yeah, it kind of was, wasn't it?" Ford replied, still a bit shocked. In order to appear less awkward, he took a big sip of his coffee, then set the cup down on the bedside table. "We'd better get some sleep, huh?" he asked, in an attempt to break the silence.

"Yeah, probably. Here, let me get you some clean pajamas," He grabbed some sweat pants and a loose t-shirt from his dresser, and tossed them to him. "Do you want me to leave the room while you change, or...?" 

"It's fine, you can stay," Ford replied, quickly dressing into the fresh pj's. "I suppose you'll want your pillows back, huh?"

"Well, I could do that, but then I'd have to go downstairs to get more, so I think there's a better solution," tom said, setting down his coffee cup as well, then sitting back down on the lower bunk, "I'll just sleep down here with you."

"Oh! Alright then," he said, shocked that Tom would even want to. he moved over on the lower bunk so Tom could get beside him, and Tom rested his arm over Ford.

"Do you mind if I...?" He asked, in reference to his arm. 

"Nope, not at all," Ford squeaked, still shocked by the amount of contact. Tom moved a little closer, and Ford cuddled into him, comfortable. He fell asleep within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. Fluffy chapter. Deal with it. I had to write something happy, I'm in a real funk right now, so this helped me get unblocked. Next chapter should be out by tomorrow. Ciao!


	10. Chapter 10

Ford and Tom lived like this for a while. Ford's grades were finally rising back up to his normal levels now that he had a place to sleep and food. Tom's grades were also on the rise, thanks to Ford's help. Every night they cuddled a little, and slept on the same bunk, but made sure to only meet during their spare and lunch so people didn't get too suspicious. They tended to leave the school a little later, too, so no one saw them getting in the same car. Other than that, things were looking up for both of them. Ford had realized that the end of the school year was inching closer, though, which meant he had to figure out where he would go after graduation. 

West Coast Tech was obviously out of the question. He could try another prestigious college or university, but word gets around in elite circles, so he probably wouldn't be getting into any of those. So he decided a more local college was necessary. He had also figured that scholarships were his best chance, since he couldn't pay for it himself and his parents wouldn't pay for it, since they had, you know, kicked him out. So he made a list of every college in the area that had the programs he wanted (He'd always wanted to get as many PhD's as possible) and a separate list of scholarships he would be applicable for. He did almost every academic scholarship, and every a few community ones from his time in the cafeteria. And then he applied for all of them. He knew it was a bit overkill, but he had to do what was necessary.

He was a bit nervous about it, because if he didn't get accepted into any of them, he didn't have much of a back-up plan. But, one day, he received a letter at the Fletcher's house (He had been using their address since he was living there). The letter stated he had been accepted into Backupsmore University! It was one of the lowest ranking universities in New Jersey, but this was no ordinary acceptance letter, the kind that are all printed the same but with your name changed. It sounded like the people at Backupsmore were actually impressed with his studies, which gave Ford an idea.

He could probably get into any of these other universities, but at Backupsmore, he'd be a big fish in a little pond, meaning he would have more academic freedom, and possibly a grant by the time he graduated if he played his cards right...

So, Backupsmore it was. 

That night at dinner, Mrs. Fletcher asked about the letter he had received. He had kept it to himself, assuming the Fletcher's wouldn't care all that much. 

"Oh, that was my university acceptance letter," He said casually.

"Oh! You got your acceptance letter! Stanford I am so proud of you!" She exclaimed. Ford was surprised. If he had even mentioned going to a university like this one back home, his father would have beaten him. "Which university is it?"

"Just a place called Backupsmore, I believe they're south of here?" He said, still a bit shocked she had even cared. 

"Great job, sport!" Mr. Fletcher chimed in. "You know, Tom here was accepted into New Jersey City University on a football scholarship, too."

"Tom, you didn't tell me you were accepted into NJCU!" Mrs. Fletcher exclaimed, and Tom shook his head.

"Ma, this is why I didn't tell you, I didn't want you to make it a big deal!" Tom sighed.

"We have to celebrate! My two boys, off to university! Anything you want to do?"

Tom sighed again. "I'd like to finish my dinner. Can we think about it a little?"

"Yes, of course, dear," Mrs. Fletcher replied.

The two boys finished their dinner and put their plates in the sink, then went up to Tom's room.

"So, we're going to different universities, huh?" Ford said awkwardly, as a conversation starter.

"Eh, it's not so bad, we're only a couple miles away from each other, so we can visit," Tom replied. "Ma probably won't stop bugging us until we pick something to celebrate with, what do you wanna do?"

"I dn't know, anything you want, really," Ford changed into one of the sweaters he had stolen from Tom, since it was comfy and Tom hated it. A red turtle neck sweater. Then they heard a knock on the door.

"Hey, boys, just me," Mr. Fletcher said, sticking his head in the doorway, "Stanford, can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure," Ford said, and followed him into the hall. They walked downstairs into Mr. Fletcher's office space, and he motioned for Ford to sit in the chair opposite the desk, and he sat behind it, making Ford feel like he was in the principal's office.

"Now, Stanford," He began, pouring a drink from a bottle under the desk, "I know that you think you're being all sneaky, but I know about you and my son."

Ford gulped. Were they really being that obvious? "I'm not sure I follow, sir," He replied, practically shaking with anxiety.

"Oh, stop it with all that 'sir' nonsense, we're practically family, you heard my wife earlier," he laughed, "You're one of her two boys! And I trust you and love you like a son at this point. But--" he took a long, slow drink from his glass "-- If you ever hurt my son, I will not hesitate to punch your teeth out. Got it?"

"Believe me, Mr. Fletcher, I have no plans on doing that," he laughed, thankful it wasn't something more serious, "Your son is one of the best people I've ever met."

"Good to hear. Well, you're free to go," He said motioning at the door. With that, Ford left, feeling better than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... It's been a hot minute since I've posted. I'm sorry about that. I don't even have a very good excuse, other than I was writing a DnD (And more D) campaign on the side. I should be updating at the most every two days moving forward. So look forward to that. Anyway, Ciao!


	11. Chapter 11

School continued to go well for the two boys, and before they knew it graduation was upon them. Tom wasn’t one for celebrating, but he seemed to have made an exception for today since he woke Ford up early the day of the ceremony. They didn’t have to go to school that day until three o’clock, so Ford didn’t understand why he couldn’t sleep in.

“Get up, sleepyhead!” Tom yelled again, smacking him with a pillow, “We’re going to have a fun day today whether you like it or not!” 

“Ugh, five more minutes...” Ford muttered from underneath the blanket.

“Nope!” Tom yelled and pulled the blanket off of him, “We’ve got things to do and people to see!”

“Like what?” He asked, yawning as he rubbed his eyes.

“Well, you don’t have any formal wear, right?” He replied, “So I hooked you up. We’ve gotta go pick it up today. Plus, Ma wants to take us to lunch before the ceremony. And we have got to do something with your hair...”

“Alright, sounds like a busy day then,” Ford looked at him, smiling at his enthusiasm as he got dressed, then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Tom was close behind him. After they finished, he asked his Mom about taking her car over, and after a few minutes of convincing, she said yes.

“So who are we picking this up from, anyway?” Ford asked, hoping in the front seat.

“A guy who used to be on the football team, graduated a year before us,” he replied, starting the car, “He’s about your size, and he’s a pretty cool guy. He even said you could keep it if you wanted to, he never wears it.”

“Well, that’s nice of him.”

They drove for a bit before pulling up in front of a decently sized house. Tom got out of the car, and knocked on the door, and a guy about Ford’s height answered the door, and gave him a bro hug before handing over a shopping bag full of clothing.

Tom went back to the car and tossed him the shopping bag. “He said it might need to be ironed, but other than that it’s good. You like it?” 

Ford pulled it out of the bag, it was a nice suit jacket and dress pants with a white dress shirt and black bow tie. “It’s awesome Tom, you’re the best,” he glanced around quickly to make sure no one was watching, then pecked him on the cheek, causing him to blush furiously. 

“Alright, lets get back to the house, Ma will be mad if we take too long,” he said, flustered, as he started the car.

They arrived back at the house, and Ford showed Mrs. Fletcher the suit. She fussed over it for a minute, then took it from him to iron it. Then Mr. Fletcher came out of his office.

“Hey boys, since she’s busy, let go for lunch! Have a guys afternoon!” He said, a bit over enthusiastically. The boys agreed so as to not hurt his feelings, and he ended up taking them to a sports bar of all places. They split a plate of nachos, and Tom and his father became thoroughly engrossed in the football game they were watching. As they argued about whether a quarterback or receiver were more essential to the team, Ford mulled over some of his own thoughts.

He had been thinking about his relationship with Tom, and how much he loved spending time with him and cuddling with him. He wasn’t sure if he could call it ‘dating’ since they had never really gone on an official date, (unless you counted quiet nights stargazing in Toms backyard, or going to the grocery store when they needed milk and ending up causing more than a little trouble.) but he definitely appreciated this. However, Tom had expressed feelings about being a little more “physical” with him. He wasn’t opposed to the idea at all, but he wasn’t exactly sure what that would entail. It wasn’t like they taught that in Sex Ed. He decided to put these thoughts on the back burner, figuring once they were both ready they could figure it out.

Suddenly, his attention was drawn by someone familiar looking wandering into the bar. It couldn’t be, could it? He was scruffy, and looked like he’d been living in his car, but there was no doubt about it; Stanley was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry I was gone for so long, I just started DMing for a group of friends and writing your own campaign is pretty challenging, to say the least. But I’ve finished writing it, so I can finally come back to this. I hope you enjoyed, and as always, the next chapter will be up shortly. Ciao!


	12. Chapter 12

Ford looked up at his twin from their table, and watched as he walked to the bar and produced a fake ID from his jacket pocket. The bartender either didn't notice the fake or didn't care, and brought him a beer. Stanley was drinking now? It was only noon...

He looked like he'd been through hell and back, unkempt hair, stained clothes, and greasy skin. He'd clearly been living in his car, but if he could afford a beer, he'd supposed he'd found some way to make money. Ford remembered what Mr. Fletcher had said about him selling 'junk' out on the dock... But didn't he say he had had to leave town?

Tom looked over to Ford while in the middle of arguing with his father. "Ford? What do you think? Quarterback or receiver?" He asked, but caught Ford staring. He looked over at Stan, then back to Ford. "Wait, is that...?" Before he could finish, he nodded. "Maybe we ought to leave," Tom started, knowing all the shit Ford had been through because of him, but before he could finish, an older man began yelling from the other side of the bar.

"Hey! I know you, Stanley Pines!" He yelled, "You sold me some bullshit product out on the dock!"

Stan looked up from his beer, panicked, and slapped a few bucks on the counter before sprinting out of the bar, closely followed by the man and a few others that recognized him. Ford sighed, hoping that his brother would stay safe even if he was a huge jerk, and Mr. Fletcher turned to him.

"That was your brother, wasn't it?" He asked, then sighed when Ford nodded. "Sorry about that, sport. I'm sure you'll see him again eventually. Life has a way of bringing people together when they need to be."

"Thanks, Mr. Fletcher," Ford said, picking up a nacho and nibbling on the corner.

"Hey, I know what'll make you feel better," Tom said, clapping him on the back, "Let's go home and get ready for the ceremony, yeah?"

Ford didn't really see how this could make him feel much better, but he agreed all the same. They drove home and Tom dragged ford upstairs into the bathroom. 

"See, this is what I meant by making you feel better," He said, and began to style Ford's hair, gently combing his fingers through it. Ford began to complain, but whatever Tom was doing, it wasn't making his hair look any worse, so he let him continue. After a bit of this, he stepped in front of Ford so he couldn't see in the mirror. Ford tried to look around him, but Tom just stepped to the side. "No peeking!"

"Tom, my hair is uncooperative, it'll just go back to the way it was before once you're done," Ford tried explaining, but he just shook his head.

"Trust the process, Ford," He replied, continuing to style it. After a few minutes, he stopped, and moved out of the way of the mirror. And Ford was shocked.

His hair looked lighter and softer, and it had been styled to stick up in all the right places. It made him look more friendly and approachable, while also making him look 'less nerdy' as Tom would have said. He also noticed he now bore less of a resemblance to Stan, but he doubted that was Tom's intent. 

"So, what do you think?" Tom asked anxiously, still holding the comb, "Because I can put it back to normal if you'd like, I just thought--"

Ford silenced him with a kiss. He usually didn't kiss first, especially not on the lips, but he was feeling daring today. "It's awesome, Tom, thank you," He said.

Tom blushed a bit before kissing back, a bit harder than Ford had, causing Ford to melt in his arms. They broke apart fairly slowly, and Tom cleared his throat.

"We'd, uh, better get ready for grad, it's only in-" He checked his watch, and his eyes widened "-Oh crap, we've only got a half an hour!" Tom rushed to his room to put his suit on, and Ford followed him to find that Mrs. Fletcher had ironed his new suit and it was hanging next to Tom's in the room. They got dressed quickly and headed downstairs to find Tom's parents waiting for them with a camera.

"Alright boys. get in close for a picture," Mrs. Fletcher said, and they both sighed before obliging, Tom's hand on Ford's waist and Ford's arm around his shoulder, exactly how straight couples did it. She took the picture and then looked at the two of them. "You two are just too cute!" She exclaimed, causing them both to blush and Ford to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

Mr. Fletcher walked over to them holding something in his hand. He cleared his throat then opened his palm to show two pins. "Boys, I know you were upset about not being able to go to prom without dates, so I figured you could give each other flowers now," he passed them each one of the enamel pins, tiny blue violets, the state flower of New Jersey. Ford looked to Mr. Fletcher and gave a thankful nod, then pinned it to Tom's lapel. Tom smiled at him, then pinned his onto Ford's lapel.

Ford looked down at the pin on his jacket. It was beautiful and well made, but small and subtle enough that he doubted anyone would be able to notice him and Tom were wearing matching ones, so there would be no questions. 

"Alright then," Mr. Fletcher said, clapping his hands together, "We'd better get going, don't want to be late for the ceremony!"


	13. Chapter 13

They got in the car and drove to the graduation ceremony, and as Ford looked at the crowds of people gathered in the gymnasium, he was thankful he hadn’t won anything that required him to do a speech. Only Valedictorians and receivers of charity awards had to, and those were more of a popularity contest than anything since the student body voted them in.

They picked up their gowns and caps in front of the gym then sat in neat, alphabetical rows while they waited for the ceremony to begin. Ford couldn’t help but scan the crowd to see anyone he recognized, his mother, Stanley, even his father would have been alright. But the only people he saw were the Fletchers holding a camera and smiling proudly.

The ceremony began and it was mostly a blur. Ford was the recipient of the Math and Sciences award and the Engineering award, and Tom received the Most Improved Athlete award. They got their diplomas, which unfortunately involved shaking hands, and Ford’s palms were sweating like crazy. The ceremony finished up, and they were welcome to return their caps and gowns and rejoin their families now. Everyone did so almost immediately, since the gym was probably around 80°. 

The Fletchers greeted them for a short moment, mostly to show them the pictures they had taken of them with their awards and diplomas. Then they headed to the ‘party’ bit of the evening.

“You’re sure you want to go, Tom?” Ford asked, following behind him of the way to the hall rented a block away from the school, “I know you’re not really fond of big celebrations.”

“It’ll be fun, and besides, it’s not like there’s anything else going on tonight,” he replied, casually straightening Ford’s bow tie before they went in. 

The hall was strangely empty, only a few people milling about, drinking lukewarm punch. They were aware there was an after-party at some other classmates house, but they had decided to avoid that one since the football team would be there. They weren’t expected 90% of the student body to be there, though.

They walked in awkwardly, the few people that were there staring at them. They each got a glass of punch and stood around, waiting for a decent song to play. After a while, all of the students left, saying, and I quote: ‘this party sucks ass’ and ‘fuck this I’m going to Ashley’s place’ 

That left Ford and Tom standing alone in the hall, and suddenly the music quieted down. 

“Hey, guys,” the DJ said awkwardly, fiddling with his headphones, “do you want me to play a song for you, or something? I’m kinda packing up here soon, but I figured you might want a dance.” 

It was inconspicuous enough that an outsider would just assume the DJ was asking for a last song request, but by the way he phrased it, Tom and Ford caught his meaning. “That’d be great,” Tom replied, taking Ford’s hand in his own, knowing they were in safe company.

The DJ smiled and started up the speakers again, this time with a slower song playing. “We’ll Meet Again” by Vera Lynn started up, and Tom stuck out his hand.

“Stanford Pines, may I have this dance?” He asked in an almost joking manner, and Ford feigned shock.

“Why of course, Thomas Fletcher,” he replied in the same tone, and took his hand, and they began to dance, albeit a bit clumsily. Tom was surprisingly good, and as they danced he managed to guide Ford into the right steps without him stepping on his feet. As they started to move more fluidly, Tom spun Ford gently, and they laughed. As the song drew to a close, Ford pulled Tom closer so he could rest his head on his chest, and their dancing devolved into just swaying and holding each other. The song ended, and the DJ smiled at them.

“Sorry guys, but I’ve got to pack up now,” he said, putting his equipment into some duffel bags, “I wish you all the best, though.”

They nodded their thanks to him, then walked outside to wait for Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher to come pick them up.


	14. Chapter 14

Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher arrived to pick them up, and the car ride back home was mostly silent, considering how late it was. They arrived back at the house and Tom's parents immediately went to bed, while Tom and Ford opted to stay up a little longer, grabbing cans of pop and going to star-gaze in the backyard.

"Tonight was really fun," Tom said quietly, grabbing hold of Ford's hand.

"yeah, it was," Ford replied, giving it a squeeze, "Now we have the whole summer to do our own thing, huh?

"Well, not really," he said, looking over at him, "I just got the notice today that we'll have a half summer so we can start pre-season training in August. Sorry."

"Hey, it's like you said, right? We're only a few miles apart, we can visit," He smiled somewhat sadly at him, and kissed him on the cheek. "We've got a month, why not make the most of it?"

And that they did. Tom's dad tried to teach Ford how to play football, which had turned out horribly, even though he was somewhat gifted when it came to strategy; It was almost exactly like a game of chess. Ford showed Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher the plans for his perpetual motion machine, and even though it was broken, they were still impressed. They went mini-golfing, which was a huge amount of fun, even if they all sucked at it. And finally, towards the end of their month, Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher took them on a road trip through some of the northern states.

They were all great, but the place that stuck out to him most was definitely Oregon. Specifically, Gravity Falls.

They had stopped there for gas on their way back to New Jersey, and while his parents were doing that, Tom suggested he and Ford go explore the town. He had no objections to this, since it was a pretty cute small town. They wandered around for a bit, not finding much. Eventually they walked toward the lake, then into the woods. It was serene and beautiful there, and the pine trees cast huge shadows across the forest floor, making it much cooler the surrounding town. somewhere along the way, him and Tom got separated. He couldn't really remember how, his memory was fuzzy and everything felt weird, almost like a dream. Then a screeching filled his mind, blocking out his other senses. God, it hurt, but through the almost radio static sounding noise, he could hear words.

"Sixer! I'll be seeing you again soon," The words echoed in his mind, and he panicked. This shrieking was painful, and now this disembodied voice was speaking to him... He had to have been losing his mind. So he screamed. Out of pain, out of frustration, out of fear. 

He felt the horrible static fade out, and the pain ease, and he opened his eyes to see Tom shaking him awake.

"Oh my God, Ford, are you okay?" He looked panicked as he gripped Ford's shoulders. as soon as he saw his eyes open, he had pulled him into a tight hug. "I thought I lost you..." he whispered, and Ford wrapped his arms around him as well.

They went back to the car after that, hoping to never set foot in those woods again.

After they got back from the road trip, Tom began packing for university, and Ford figured he'd better do the same thing. He had signed up for an early semester start after he heard Tom was going back early; He liked the Fletcher's well enough, but being alone with them in a house was not a prospect he wanted to face. 

"Hey, Tom, is this sweater yours or mine?" Ford asked as he held up a red turtle-neck sweater. Their clothes had been so mixed together while they slept in the same room that it was becoming hard to tell.

"That one's mine, but you can keep it, I never wear that one," Tom replied, laughing, "Think of it as something to remember me by."

"Hey, we're still gonna visit, right?" He folded the sweater and stuck it in his duffel bag, "Quit talking like we're breaking up."

"Of course, my bad," He joked, "It's gonna be so weird at university, I'm gonna be so cold alone!"

"Yeah, I'll miss you too, Tom," Ford joked back, rolling his eyes as he planted a kiss on his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to my BRO. Hope you liked it!


	15. Chapter 15

Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher dropped him off at Backupsmore fairly early in the day, and Ford felt just as vulnerable with his duffel bag as he did the first night he left home. The only difference was he had an extra box now, and still got to visit the Fletcher's on holidays and Tom weekly. He checked the letter he had been given again for his dorm room. Dorm building six, room 17. Alright, it couldn't be too hard to find, right?

As it turns out, it was much harder to find than he thought. 

When he finally found his room, it was late in the day. He realized he hadn't been given a key yet, so he knocked, hoping his roommate had already arrived. God, he hoped they were nice. He did not need that today. After a few seconds, a short, nervous looking man opened the door.

"Hey, how can I help you?" He spoke in a thick southern accent.

"Hello, I'm Stanford Pines, I think we're roommates?" He replied in a questioning tone, holding up his letter.

"Oh, right, o' course! C'mon in," he opened the door and walked in, and Ford followed behind him, dropping his stuff on the unoccupied side of the room. The other side was covered in posters already, most of them featuring various sci-fi franchises. "The name's Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, nice to meet you," He stuck out a shaky hand.

"Nice to meet you too, Fiddleford," He shook his hand. "So what are you majoring in?" Ford asked in a weak attempt to make conversation.

"Engineering, what about you?"

He didn't really want to explain, but he'd kind of screwed himself over by asking in the first place, so he figured he might as well tell him. "I don't really have much of a major, per se, the university is allowing me to fast track into a PhD program because of my grades, so I'm doing uh, several of those," He replied, trying not to showoff. That was the last thing he wanted to do here. He continued, "I'm starting in astrophysics and biology, though."

"Well, that's pretty darn neat," Fiddleford replied, not making much of a deal out of it at all, thank god. Then he pulled out a package of what appeared to be tobacco."Er, do you mind if I...?"

"Not at all," Ford replied, and Fiddleford sighed gratefully before starting to chew some. Ford found chewing tobacco gross, but he was a stress smoker, so who was he to judge? 

"So, uh, you like Star Trek?" Ford asked, gesturing at some of the posters on Fiddleford's side of the room as he unpacked. "What's your favourite race?"

"I like those Andoran fellas, the whole six fingers on each hand is pretty cool," he replied, pulling out a Rubik's cube and playing around with it.

"Wait, really? They're one of my favorites too," Ford laughed, spreading his sheets out on his mattress, "I like the six fingers too, but for more personal reasons." He raised his hand toward him, and spread his fingers.

Fiddleford looked over for a moment, then looked slightly shocked. Then he laughed. "My roommate has six fingers and is in multiple PhD programs. Stanford, I don't think I've ever met anyone weirder than you," He joked, "Except for my uncle Billy, who's the reason it's illegal to drive a tractor while on ketamine in the state of Texas."

"Thanks, I guess...?"

The two became fast friends.


	16. Chapter 16

It was about a week later when Tom finally came to visit. Ford had been super busy with his PhD programs; They weren't super hard, but there was certainly a lot of work. He had done all his homework early in preparation for their weekend though. Then he heard a knock at the door. 

He immediately knew it wasn't Fiddleford, since he had a key, and he was praying that it wasn't any faculty coming to reprimand them for their coffee machine. Sure, it technically wasn't allowed, but he needed it to get through the day and he wasn't paying three dollars for it near the school. He opened the door cautiously, carefully shielding the side of the room hosting the coffee machine from view. 

"Hello, how can I... Tom!" He realized after looking up, and practically tackled him in a hug.

"Hey, cool it, someone might see us!" Tom warned, but he was smiling too. 

"You can come in, my roommate's at the library today," He propped open the door to allow him to come in.

"So, how's school going? Astrophysics, right?" He asked, sitting down on the edge of Ford's bed.

"It's going pretty well, I've come up with a theory that may earn me my doctorate, but it does defy a few laws of basic physics," he pulled some papers of a nearby desk and handed them to him, sitting down next to him, "See, right there, they contradict themselves, meaning that my theory could be possible, if not for the rules."

"Hey, it's like you said, rules are made to be broken, right?" He laughed, "I'm sure you'll figure it out, you're the smartest guy I know."

"Thanks, Tom," he said gratefully, "How's school going for you? What's the football team like?"

"It's alright, I guess," Tom shrugged, "You know how those kinds of guys are, a bunch of manly men, y'know? I'm the only one there with any emotions I think," He joked, then his tone turned more serious, "The other day I missed a throw, and one of the guys called me a queer. I got so scared for a minute before I realized they were joking."

"You okay? That's pretty scary..." he rested a hand on his back reassuringly, "You know, sometimes I wonder if we should do something. I keep seeing those protests on the news. Maybe it's time to join something bigger than ourselves?"

Tom shook his head. "You shouldn't, you've got too good of a reputation at this school. You have the perfect thing going on, what with the PhD programs and your teachers liking you. But..." He trailed off for a second, then seemed to come back to reality. "The thing is... I'm headed to a protest next week."

"Wait, really? But what about your reputation, and the football team?" Ford asked, sincerely worried, "Plus those protests can be pretty dangerous, I don't want you to get hurt..."

"Ford, if they somehow do find out I was there, I don't even like football all that much. It's no loss to me," He took a deep breath in, "I just can't sit back and watch all this happen! You get that, right?"

"Yeah, I get it," Ford replied, and he did. He knew he was very lucky to have the Fletcher's after he had been kicked out, but he knew plenty of people could never get back on their feet after something like that. "Please be careful when you go? I've heard some real horror stories about those protests."

"I promise you I'll be careful," Tom smiled and kissed him on the cheek, exactly when Fiddleford decided to come back from the library. He stared at them like a deer caught in headlights. Tom froze and quietly looked over to Ford. 'I thought you said he was at the library today," he whispered.

"I thought he was, and considering the amount of books he has we can infer that he has been already," Ford whispered back, "I guess he came back early."

"Is he okay? He's not moving," 

"I think he's fine, just give him a minute to process,"

Fiddleford seemed to unfreeze, and looked at his roommate. "Hey, Stanford. Hello, stranger who just kissed Stanford. Who here wants to explain?"

Ford spoke up first. "Oh, Fidds, we didn't think you'd be back this early," He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, "Uh, this is my boyfriend, Tom Fletcher," Behind him, Tom gave an awkward wave, "We didn't mean for you to find out like this... Or at all, actually..." The two shared anxiety filled looks as Fiddleford shook his head.

"Stanford, if you're gonna have company over, please let me know so I can order more takeout!" He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and Ford sighed with relief. "Now I'm gonna have to call the Chinese place back and order another meal! Tom, was it? What do you want?"

"I'll just get whatever Ford's getting," He said in a small voice, and Fiddleford looked over at him.

"You sure? 'Cause this place has a pretty good sweet and sour pork, and Stanford don't eat pork,"

"I'll get that, then," Tom replied, always in the mood to try something new.

"Alright then, I'll go make the call. I'll be back in a minute," He left the room, and Ford turned to Tom, shocked.

"Well, " He said simply, "That went better than expected."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do briefly mention Ford not eating pork in this chapter, this is because I'm pretty sure he's Jewish in canon, if not then he's Jewish here, and pork is not kosher. Anyway, I'm in a real writing groove right now, so the next chapter should be out really soon. Until then, Ciao!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I know what I have to do, but I don't know if I have the strength to do it."-- Kylo Ren, Star Wars: The Force Awakens.

The next week before Tom was headed to his protest was uneventful. Ford had talked to his professor, who told him as long as he could provide ample evidence, he could write up his theory, which he was quite happy about. Fiddleford had introduced him to his girlfriend, Emma-May, and she seemed nice enough. Fiddleford had confided in him that he planned on asking her to marry him, and Ford was genuinely happy for them. They had recently purchased a small radio that they kept in their dorm to listen to music, and they were both becoming fond of a new rock band called Queen. Everything was going great, and Ford temporarily forgot about the protest he was so worried about Tom going to. 

That was until their telephone rang at two in the afternoon on Saturday. 

They were both sitting around in their dorm, exhausted by their studies and doing next to nothing. Fiddleford had gotten himself a 10x10 Rubik's cube, and had occupied himself with that, while Ford just listened to the radio, trying to stop being busy for two seconds. They turned toward the ringing phone, and they both called out "Not it!" at nearly the same time, Ford chiming in just after Fidds. They had developed this system since they both despised talking on the phone. 

Ford sighed and got up to answer it. "Hello, this is the dorm room of Stanford Pines and Fiddleford McGucket, Stanford speaking," He said in his most polite voice, sincerely hoping it wasn't some prank caller from down the hall. 

"Hey Ford, it's just me," Tom's voice came in on the other line, "Just figured I'd let you know I'm headed to the protest now, I think they're reporting it on the radio if you wanted to tune in." 

"I will, thanks," Ford replied, "Promise me you'll be careful, okay?" 

"I promise, Ford," he laughed, "I'll call you when I get back." 

"Okay, good luck," he stopped for a second, but before he could hang up, he pulled the phone up again. "Tom, one more thing: I love you." There was nothing on the other end for a second, so Ford was afraid he had already hung up. Then he heard a slight laugh on the other end. 

"I love you too, nerd," he replied, and Ford could almost feel him blushing on the other end of the line, "I'll talk to you in a bit. Bye." 

"Bye," he said, and put down the phone, feeling more worried than ever. "Hey, Fidds," He said to his roommate, turning to the radio, "What station is the news again? The protest is being broadcast and I don't want to miss it." 

"Pretty sure it's 87.6, but can you wait till this song is over? It's one of my favorites," He replied, not looking up from his cube.

"Yeah, I can wait, thanks," Ford said, and sat back down, patiently waiting for the song to be over. As soon as it was, he changed it, and there were a few reporters talking about it in rather unfriendly terms, referring to homosexuality as a disease. He sighed; All coverage was still coverage, he supposed, and it was better than being left in the dark. The protest seemed to 'begin' and the reporters started listing the groups that were marching, and their locations and such. It was pretty boring, so he lied down on his bed to listen, still feeling anxious about the whole thing. 

Eventually, he assumed he fell asleep, and when he woke up, the radio was off, and so were the lights. It was around Six o'clock at night, and he felt groggy and confused. There was a note from Fiddleford on top of the radio, reading: 

_Hey Stanford, you fell asleep during the protest, so I turned it off and went to meet Emma-May and pick up dinner. Figured you needed the sleep. Be back soon. -- Fiddleford_

__He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, fending off a headache, then turned the radio back on. All news about the protest seemed to be over, so he assumed it had passed by without anything eventful. He grabbed some Tylenol from his desk drawer, then decided to try and sleep off his headache. Just as he felt the meds take effect, and he began drifting off, the phone rang. He assumed it was Tom, calling him about the protest, and picked up the phone eagerly._ _

__"Hello, this is the dorm room of Stanford Pines and Fiddleford McGucket, Stanford speaking," he recited, groggily._ _

__To his surprise, Mrs. Fletcher's voice answered. "Stanford, have you heard the news?" her voice sounded raw, as if she had been crying._ _

__"What news?" He asked, suddenly very awake, and very concerned._ _

__"The protest Tom was at today-- There was an issue, and--" Her voice cracked, and she began to cry. He heard the phone being transferred, and then Mr. Fletcher spoke up._ _

__"Today at the protest," He began in a strained voice, "There was an armed gunman walking through the crowds. He fired several shots before he was subdued, and Tom was..." His steady voice seemed to falter for a moment. "Tom was shot in the head. He died instantly. I'm so sorry." He heard Mr. Fletcher's voice crack._ _

__"What?" he asked in pure disbelief. This couldn't be true. It happened to other people, but not to them. Not to him._ _

__"I'm sorry, son," Mr. Fletcher's voice replied, but he could barely hear him. He hung up the phone as he felt hot tears running down his face, and, almost in a daze, he walked to the secret cabinet Fiddleford kept for alcohol. He never drank, fearing becoming like his father, but tonight was an exception. He grabbed a case of beer and closed himself in his closet, the only place he could get any privacy. He twisted one open and took a big sip, relishing the bitter taste of the alcohol. That night, he drank to Tom, he drank to his parents, and he drank to everyone else killed that day. But, mostly, he just drank to numb himself._ _

__Fiddleford arrived back at the dorm later that night, setting down some takeout food on the counter. "Hey, Stanford," He said, knocking on the closet door, since he knew Ford sometimes studied in there, "I was talkin' to Emma-May tonight, and she wanted to know if you and Tom wanted to come on our camping trip this year." He paused for a few seconds, waiting for a response, and looked concerned when he only heard a few choking sobs come from the closet. "Stanford? You okay?" Again, no reply. "I'm opening the door, okay?"_ _

__After a few seconds of silence, he opened the door slowly to reveal Ford sitting in his closet, empty beer bottles strewn around him, crying over the one he had in his hands. he looked up at Fiddleford, tears in his eyes. "They... They killed him, Fidds," He slurred, drunk. "Those bastards... Fucking killed Tom. He's dead." He broke into a new fit of sobs, and Fiddleford gasped._ _

__"You need to stop drinking, Ford," He said, taking the bottle out of his hands, trying to deal with the one issue he could right now. "You're very drunk." He spoke in the most even voice he could work up, and poured a glass of water and gave it to him. "Drink this, I don't want to take you to the hospital tonight."_ _

__Ford did as told, then stumbled to his bed, collapsing into a shallow sleep._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry. Tom just didn't fit into the future I have planned for this fic. I hope you will continue to read. I have an ending planned already, and it's a happy one, we're just taking a round-about way of getting there. 'Till the next chapter, I send my love, readers.


	18. Chapter 18

Ford woke up the next day dehydrated with a horrible headache. He rubbed his eyes before checking the time: Nearly one in the afternoon. He sighed, realizing he would be late to class, but noticed a note from Fiddleford, telling him he had told his professors he wouldn't be in for the day due to a death of a loved one. He could barely read it without his glasses. Then he remembered.

Tom was dead.

And Ford felt nothing. 

He didn't feel sad, or angry, or anything you're supposed to feel after someone you love dies. He just felt... Nothing. It was like there was a void in his chest, and everything felt muffled, as if his brain was full of cotton. So he just lied there, feeling useless, before following the motions of his day. Get up. Brush your hair. Eat breakfast. Brush your teeth. Schoolwork. Sleep. 

it went on like that for about a week, and he continued going to class. He didn't talk to Fiddleford about much of anything, except for school. He threw himself into his work, studying harder than ever before, earning grades faster than anyone else in his class. Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher began calling more and more often, and it hurt him to answer their calls. He knew he should though, so he did. They deserved someone to talk to, too.

The funeral arrived and Ford went wearing the same suit he had worn to graduation, the violet pin still pinned to the lapel. Tom's entire family was there, and he seemed to be the only 'friend' that was there. It was in a small Catholic church, and he listened numbly to prayers that he would arrive in heaven, and speeches about what an upstanding young man he was, and what a beautiful girlfriend he could have had. The worst part was when they announced that he was shot while walking back to his dorm from school. They were even covering up the circumstances of his death, so not even his family would know what a noble cause he had given his life for.

The reception was awful, just dozens of people he didn't know and an open coffin. He watched people walking up to pay their respects, and remembered a conversation he had had with Tom not too long ago...

"You know, when I die," Tom had said, "I want to be cremated, and I want my ashes scattered in the ocean."

"Why the ocean?" Ford remembered asking, only thinking of the garbage filled beaches of Jersey.

"Not like, here," He said, laughing, "Like the Arctic Ocean, or something. So I'll be always moving with the current," He shrugged, "I don't know, it's stupid, I just don't wanna stay in one place after I die."

"When I die, just bury me with my books," Ford had joked, and the two had laughed.

He felt tears rolling down his cheeks, and it was like whatever dam he had put up was broken. He cried silently throughout the reception, and as it came to a close, and people began to leave, he walked towards the coffin.

It didn't look like him. This was a stiff approximation of Tom, like someone who had never met him was told to draw a picture of him. He cried harder at the sight, and looked down at his jacket, the same one he had worn to graduation, violet still pinned to the lapel. he remembered taking pictures with him what felt like a lifetime ago, dancing in the empty hall. The song came back to him, a memory clear as day...

_We'll meet again,_

_Don't know where,_

_Don't know when,_

_We will meet again,_

_On some sunny day... ___

__Then, without thinking, he removed the pin from Tom's lapel, and thanked Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher before leaving._ _


	19. Chapter 19

When Ford arrived back at his dorm after the funeral, he dug out an old jewelry box he had and carefully put Tom's pin inside. He placed it on his nightstand gently, and he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes for the second time that day. But this time, he took a deep breath, and went to the bathroom and washed off his face. When he was done, he walked beck to his dorm, looking in the mirror, and adjusted his hair and pinned the twin of Tom's pin onto his sweater. Time to stop feeling sorry for himself and get back at it.

He threw himself into his work yet again, this time with newfound vigor. Tom and others had given their lives at protests so he could be comfortable right where he was, without the need to protest. So he decided to make the most of his opportunity. And did he ever.

Within his first year of university, he had earned two PhD's: One in astrophysics and one in biology. 

The next year was just as productive, and another two PhD's came rolling in. It had to be some kind of record! 

The loss of Tom still weighed on him greatly, and he'd discovered that keeping himself busy kept his mind off of it. So during the sleepless nights, he would head to the campus gym and workout till he couldn't. Then he would head back to his dorm, shower, and pull on Tom's red turtleneck sweater. It was still comfortable and soft, and reminded him of better times.

The more he worked, the faster grades came rolling in. His professors were impressed, some even trying to persuade him to look into a better university. he usually shrugged and made up some bullshit like "I like to be with the people, fancy universities make you pretentious" because he didn't have the heart to tell them he'd never be welcome there.

Around their fourth year, Fiddleford proposed to Emma-May. Ford was invited to the wedding, and of course he attended, he was one of the groomsmen, after all. It was a beautiful ceremony, and Ford finally got to meet Fiddleford's uncle Billy, the reason it's illegal to drive a tractor while on ketamine in the state of Texas. 

Over the years, him and the Fletcher's fell out of touch. It was unfortunate, but he understood; When you want to forget someone, you don't hang out with their former boyfriend for the holidays. He still sent them Christmas cards, and they sent him Hanukkah ones, so not all was lost. Over the holidays, he usually just stayed in his dorm, except for the occasional thanksgiving with Fiddleford. 

After a full six years of schooling, Ford and Fiddleford both graduated. Fidds got his degree in engineering, and apparently had an idea that would "Change the world of tech" as he put it. It'd better be world-changing, though, because Emma-may was expecting, and they needed the money. 

Ford, however, graduated with 12 PhD's. One for each of his fingers. Maybe not a world record, but certainly a Backupsmore record. He had, as he predicted, gotten a large grant for his research, too. The only problem was finding what to study. 

After graduation, he sat in the library, pouring over books to find something he might be interested in. It had been hours and he'd found nothing. He shut the book he was reading about quantum physics, then watched his own hand linger on the cover of the book. _I wonder how it happens, anomalies like that... _He thought to himself. Then he got an idea. He quickly got up and scoured the library, and picked up a book of recorded anomalies in America. Two headed cows, alien abductions, unsolved missing persons cases... That kind of thing. He checked out the book and went over to a nearby research building, of sorts. It was empty due to everyone being at graduation or packing their things, but he wasn't here for the people.__

__he walked over to a cork board and pinned up a map of the fifty states. as he read through the book, he put down a tack where every anomaly was from. And one town kept creeping up again and again. As he looked up at the nearly finished cork board, he was astounded by the dozens of red tacks in and around Gravity Falls, Oregon. That strange small town he had been to while on a road trip several years earlier._ _

__Well, he'd better pack his bags. Stanford Pines was headed to Oregon._ _


	20. Chapter 20

Ford arrived in Gravity Falls early in the morning, he had been driving all night so he could work all day the next day. He pulled off the highway into the small town rimmed with a thick forest of pine trees. He checked his map for what had to have been the seventh time that morning, trying not to miss his turn. He had purchased a small bit of land just outside town for a bargain, and had begun using his grant money to construct a research lab there. Ford finally found his turn and pulled in through the large driveway, excited to see construction had already started.

He parked the car and stared at the lab being built, and pulled out the blueprint to check against. Everything looked great. _If only Stanley could see me now... _He thought to himself somewhat sadly, then heard a loud crunch noise. He whipped his head around frantically, only to see his car being dragged into the woods by an impossibly large hand. He grinned and adjusted his glasses.__

__He supposed his work started today._ _

__Ford wandered around the woods for what must have been three hours with nothing but a dollar store notepad before realizing if he ever wanted to publish his research, it would need to be in a more formal shape. So, reluctantly, he left the woods and walked into town (A surprisingly long walk for such a small town. Thanks, forest giant). There, he found a small craft store with a scrap-booking section. He picked up a red, leather-bound journal with gold detailing and decided it would be suitable. He also bought a handful of quality pens, and some gold paper and glue._ _

__He walked to a nearby motel and checked in, since it would be where he was staying until the house was finished construction. There, he sat at the flimsy desk and carefully traced out his hand onto the gold paper, then cut it out and glued it to the front of the journal for a little personality. It had been a while since he'd done arts and crafts, and he felt silly sitting there with glue all over his fingers and scrap paper all over the place._ _

__He washed his hands then took out one of his new pens, and started a new page in the journal._ _

___August 21, 1975  
I have arrived in the small town of Gravity Falls, Oregon, to conduct my research on the anomalies that are often found here. I am excited for this new opportunity, and what it may show for the future of science. I wonder what I will discover here... ____ _

____As it turned out, just about everything strange, odd, or paranormal lurked in Gravity Falls. Mothman had a summer home in the woods, fishermen told tall tales of sirens and giant serpents in the lake, lumberjacks frightened children with true stories of the Hide-Behind. These were no crazy locals or easily explained scientific phenomena, these were all the whole truth. Ford had been delighted to see them in person and record all of them._ _ _ _

____Over time, the amount of anomalies became very large, so one journal spread into two, which quickly began to bleed into a third. But he was no closer to identifying what made this particular town so special. There had to be something, some common factor, a unified theory of weirdness, if you will._ _ _ _

____But years of research and nothing. He was just headed in circles no matter which way he took his theories._ _ _ _

____He needed help._ _ _ _


	21. Chapter 21

Ford grabbed a bag of jellybeans and a book and stuffed them in his bag before leaving the house. He needed to take a walk, clear his mind. This had been driving him insane. He'd studied everything this town had to offer. Written down every minute detail, painstakingly sketched every affront against God. And yet he couldn't find any underlying similarities, anything to bring them together. It was frustrating beyond belief.

He found himself at one of his favorite parts of town once he realized where he'd been walking. A small birch forest near the lake, not close enough to be swarming with tourists but just close enough for a nice cool breeze off the water. It reminded him a lot of Jersey, so he spent a lot of time there reading. As he looked around for a comfortable spot to sir far enough from the road, Ford noticed something there he hadn't before. It was a crevice of sorts, and it looked like it had previously been blocked by rocks.

He carefully pried away the rest of the rocks and saw that it actually led into a fairly deep cave with an almost man-made quality about it, the slick stone looking like someone had attempted to carve stairs into it, but had given up halfway. Ford immediately knew he had to investigate, and dug through his bag. No flashlight, of course. 

He wasn't let that keep him away from what could be the find of a lifetime, though. He picked up a few branches from trees around him, then carefully bound them together with medical tape (he had medical tape, but not a flashlight? Typical) then lit them with his cigarette lighter. As he walked into the damp cave, holding his makeshift torch aloft, he felt like Indiana Jones from the movie he had seen a few months ago. He carefully walked down the steep stone, into the base of the cave, which looked like a hollowed-out room more than anything and had no interconnecting caves. That was too bad, an interconnected cave system across Gravity Falls would have been something fun to explore. 

But his disappointment was short-lived as he saw what was spread across the back of the cave walls. It looked like cave paintings of some sort, and were accompanied by text in... Latin? Of course, it had to be Latin. But he supposed he could give it a shot. He checked to make sure he was alone in the cave, then began sounding out the vowel sounds as best he could, trying to remember the half-semester of Latin he had taken, and subsequently dropped. "Esse... Et responsa? The being with answers? What is that supposed to mean?" He muttered to himself, but continued reading the passage, "Beastia cum uno oculo, noli vocare. One eye, do not summon. Is it talking about a demon?"

_The being with answers... _Maybe this 'being' could help him with his research? It also said not to summon it, but he had to try. Besides, he knew how to deal with demons, ghosts, and spirits of all kinds. He was a paranormal investigator.__

__So he took a risk and began to read the incantation aloud. "Triangulum, entangulum. Meteforis dominus ventium. Meteforis venetisarium!" He said it as convincingly as he could, even though he had no idea what it actually meant. And, just his luck, nothing happened. Whatever, it wasn't like he had big expectations anyway. He turned around and left the cave, making sure to block it up again so one day he could come back and get those symbols dated so he could at least have an archaeological find, then went and sat down under a tree. He pulled out a copy of A Large Scale Structure Of Space-Time, and although he usually found it engaging, he fell asleep within minutes._ _

__As he slept, he seemed to 'enter' a dream, if you could call it that. It was hyper-realistic, and it felt as though he was awake. Though based on the number of floating books and papers, the strange backdrop, and the fact that he was wearing a completely different outfit, he definitely wasn't. He began to walk weightlessly around the space, examining a few of the papers. These were pages from his own journal._ _

__Suddenly, a shadow loomed behind him, he whipped his head around to see:_ _

__A yellow, floating, one-eyed triangle wearing a tophat and bowtie._ _

__Huh. Not exactly what he was expecting, but it could be weirder._ _

__"Hiya, smart guy!" A voice echoed, and as it did, the triangle glowed with each word._ _

__Well, it did get weirder._ _

__Ford looked properly shocked now, and the triangle produced a sound akin to laughter, but missing all joy._ _

__"Whoa, don't have a heart attack, you're not ninety-two yet!" It glowed again with each word, so he supposed the triangle was... talking?_ _

__This was a first. He decided he couldn't just go on calling it (er, him?) a triangle, so he asked the obvious question. "Who are you?"_ _

__"The name's Bill!" He replied cheerfully, tipping his hat. Then he pointed at him, "And your name's Stanford Pines, the man who changed the world! But I'm getting ahead of ourselves! Let's relax! Care for a game of interdimensional chess?" he gestured at an empty spot on the floor, and a chessboard just... appeared. Like magic. He also found himself sitting, unsure of how he ended up in the chair. "Have a cup of tea," Bill said, and again, on his command, a teacup appeared in his hands, stamped with an eye not dissimilar from his host's. Bill sat down across from him and gestured at the board. Right, white goes first._ _

__He carefully moved a pawn, unsure if he could even touch the semi-transparent pieces. But sure enough, he could. Bill moved a knight, barely looking at the board, and instead had his eye fixed on Ford as if waiting for something. Ford played his queen, a risky strategy he had employed since his youth, then looked up at his host again, clearing his throat. "So, where are we, and what do you want with me?" he asked, attempting to be polite to the entity he had summoned in his own mind._ _

__"So many questions, Sixer!" Bill made that strange laughter-like noise again. _Sixer... _It hurt to hear that childhood nickname from anyone but Stanley, but he let it slide. Bill widened his eye, somehow managing to be very expressive with a face almost devoid of features, "First off, IQ, we're in the mindscape, where human dreams happen. Specifically, your mindscape. Secondly, I'm a Muse. Every few decades I choose a great mind to inspire, and you, Pines, are certainly up there with the greats."___ _

____"So you could help me with my research?" Were the first words out of his mouth, and he wasn't super proud of that. He of course wanted to know more about Bill, but the prospect of finally getting some help was too hard to resist._ _ _ _

____"I certainly could, if you wanted me to," He moved a pawn as he spoke, capturing Ford's knight. "I'm all-seeing, all-knowing. Hell, I can even see five minutes into the future! Helping you with your research should be easy. Just let me into your mind, Stanford." He stuck out his hand to shake, and it was engulfed in blue flames._ _ _ _

____"Please, call me a friend," He replied, smiling as he shook Bill's hand. "Then it's a deal. From now until the end of time."_ _ _ _


	22. Chapter 22

When Ford awoke afterwards, he had horrible pain in his neck and the general memory of an odd dream. He packed up his book and went back home, eager to arrive before nightfall. He arrived and sat down, writing a few small passages in his journal before making some microwave noodles and sitting on the couch to eat. He still hadn't figured out the whole cooking thing, but he figured he'd get it eventually, with time. 

As he sat there, a sort of buzzing filled his mind, inducing a headache. he got up from the couch and took a few Tylenol, but the medicine did nothing. This wasn't a new feeling, though... It reminded him of when he had first been to Gravity Falls, almost ten years ago with the Fletcher's. He sat down on the couch, suddenly dizzy as the pain burned behind his eyes, before passing out. 

He was back in that place again... what had Bill called it? The Mindscape? That was odd, usually, he didn't have similar dreams twice in a row. Then an echo-ey voice called out to him, seeming to read his thoughts.

"It's no dream, IQ!"

"Bill? But I thought-- Wait, this is real?" He asked simply, confused.

"Yep, it's really happening," Bill laughed, "Sorry I had to knock you out there, I can only talk to you in the mindscape.'

"That was you?" Ford asked, then seemed to come to a realization. "You were the one that talked to me when I was first here!"

"It certainly was Sixer, good job. Most people don't figure out messages from the beyond," he made what Ford guessed was his equivalent to a shrug.

Ford relished the praise from such a being beyond him, but kept it to himself. "Why am I here?"

"I had to make sure you knew it wasn't a dream. You made a deal with me, and our verbal contract still stands," Bill clarified, "Some people go back on a deal just 'cause they thought they were dreaming. I wanted to make sure you weren't one of those people."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Bill, you can trust me."

"Good. Now, before you wake up, was there anything you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes, actually. I do have a few questions if you would be willing to answer them?" Ford asked, and grinned when Bill agreed. "Amazing. So, is it just Bill, or do you have a last name?"

"My full name is Bill Cipher, if you must know," He replied, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Okay. Second question: Can you, like, turn down the echo in your voice? It's alright if you can't, but it's giving me a headache like you wouldn't believe," He asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

Bill laughed. "I can do my best, IQ. See you in your dreams!" he gave him a wave, and Ford woke up smiling on his couch. 

He was quick to get back to work, even though it was dark outside. He had recently purchased a polaroid camera and was thrilled to finally get some pictures of various specimens instead of just sketching, and the thought of being able to show some of his research to Bill so he could know whether he was on the right track or not excited him. The Muse did just as he said he would, and gave him pushes in the right direction when it came to his research. Everything was looking up.

Except it was almost August ninth. Ford was one week away from the ten year anniversary of Tom's death. He began feeling worse and worse as the day drew nearer, even though it had been years the loss still weighed on him heavily. Throughout all this time, he had had no one else, unless you counted a brief fling with one of the sirens in the lake. When the day finally arrived, he took out the jewelry box from his university days and pinned Tom's blue violet on his jacket, right above his heart. He didn't do any work that day, just took a walk through the same woods he and Tom had walked through years ago on vacation with his parents. He vaguely wondered what Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher were up to, but he knew they didn't want anything to do with him. In their eyes, he was the one who got their son killed.

It really was a depressing scene. When he went to bed that night, he lay awake for almost an hour before finally falling asleep. As he entered the mindscape, though, he was in for a bit of a shock. 

Instead of seeing Bill floating in his usual spot, Ford saw a tall, skinny man about his age standing there. He was blonde with tan skin and wore a yellow button-up shirt with a bowtie that complimented his shape. He waved at Ford energetically before spreading his arms. "Hey, Sixer!" he said in a voice very similar to Bill's, but slightly different, "I fixed our little echo problem!"

So it was Bill, then. He was grateful for the change, but couldn't muster up enough energy to care at the moment. "Thanks, Bill. So what are we doing tonight?" He asked, sounding tired.

Bill frowned (Which Ford could actually see for once, now that he had a mouth), "You alright, IQ? You seem upset."

"Yeah. I'm fine, just..." He sighed, "I don't know, it's stupid."

"Nah, I wanna hear it now," Bill summoned a chessboard and chairs with a wave of his hand. "Sit down, let's chat."

Ford sat down and moved a pawn, completely uninterested in the game. "Well, do you remember Tom Fletcher? he was with me in the woods the first time you spoke to me?"

"I recall, yes."

"Well, ten years ago today... He was killed," He took a deep breath, determined not to cry in front of Bill. "It was a shooting at a gay rights protest. He was only nineteen."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Bill replied, not bothering to take his turn, "Were you two close?"

"We were dating. And now..." he took another deep breath, this time letting the tears roll down his face, "His parents won't even write to me anymore. They took me in when I left home, and now I have nobody." 

"Hey, you have me," Bill looked up at him, and there was a kindness in his tone and facial expression. 

Then it happened in an instant. Slim, warm hands against his calloused ones, the feel of soft lips against his own, a sudden warmth in his chest. His Muse had kissed him. Bill Cipher was kissing him. 

And he loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I wrote Billford, get over it. These chapters are like progressively getting longer, which is weird. Anyway, see you guys next chapter. Adios!


	23. Chapter 23

Ford leaned into it almost effortlessly, the warmth from the other man addicting. He could barely remember the last time he'd been hugged, let alone kissed, And this was incredible. He felt Bill break out of the kiss slowly and gently, and he followed suit, a shocked expression crossing his face. He still couldn't believe Bill had kissed him.

"That was..." Ford trailed off, having no words for the experience.

"Wow, Sixer," Bill laughed, "That huge vocabulary of yours and you're speechless after one little kiss. It was certainly something though," upon noticing Ford's shocked expression unwavering, he frowned. "You alright? Did you not want it?"

"No, no, I liked it!" Ford reassured hastily, "It's just... That was really incredible. I haven't had anything like that for years."

"Well, glad I could be of service then," he joked, then leaned back in again for another kiss.

Ford wasn't as taken aback as he was before, and closed his eyes, resting a hand on Bill's waist absentmindedly. This feeling of warmth, the contact, the kissing... It was akin to being drunk on love... Or perhaps lust. it didn't matter to him anymore, as he felt the kiss deepen, one thing led to another, and...

He woke up the next morning with vivid memories of the mindscape, and Bill's new form. As he recalled the evening, the events later into the night overtook his brain and he felt his cheeks flush. He immediately knew it must have been a dream, and an odd one at that, perhaps his mind blurring the line between Bill and what he used to think of Tom. He began to feel a sort of loss at this realization, it had all felt so real. He combed his fingers through his hair to try and neaten it a bit before getting dressed, and as he saw his hand pass in front of his face, he noticed a hastily scrawled message written on his palm. He fumbled for his glasses, then read it:

_Sixer, the dream was real.  
Love, Bill ___

__The elation he felt was unlike any other moment in his life. It had been real after all. He smiled down at the note before getting up to take a shower, noticing a few stains on the sheets as he went. Today was going to be a great day._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a v short chapter because the Big Sad is back at it again. I'm working on more currently, I'm just putting out a mini-chapter to let you guys know I'm alive. Until the next chapter, HAPPY SPOOKTOBER!


	24. Chapter 24

Ford had begun his work again, his bad mood fading as August drew to a close. Fall had finally arrived in full swing, which meant that he could start wearing his jacket and sweater at the same time, scarves were back in fashion, and the cold weather-dwelling creatures of Gravity Falls were again starting to crop up. Ford was excited to record them again; He had just started another journal and he could only study these particular specimens two to three months of the year. 

His relationship with Bill remained constant, and he had been feeling emotionally better than ever. He had even sent a thanksgiving card to Mr. And Mrs. Fletcher this year, knowing he wouldn't get a response but still hoping for one. He also decided to send one to Fiddleford. It had really been too long since they had caught up, and he wanted to know how Emma-May and their son Tate had been doing. He was vaguely aware that his younger brother Sherman would be ten this year, but he knew his family didn't care for his well wishes.

Everything was really looking up again. Except his research had run dry again. He had been hoping the more elusive winter species would give more fuel to the fire of the Unified Theory of Weirdness, but nothing came. Just the same information in a different package. 

"What to do, what to do..." He muttered to himself while doodling on a page about the beach in his journal. He looked down and realized he had drawn a small sailboat, one looking very similar to the one he and Stan had worked on years ago. He quickly scribbled it out, not particularly wanting to be distracted from work, but had already remembered the picture he kept in his pocket. He sighed as he carefully removed it, staring at the image of the two young boys, standing in front of their boat. He missed those days but knew they were over. Stan probably wasn't having a much better go of it than him.

Ford quickly returned to his work, tucking the picture back inside his pocket. He knew what he had to do. 

God, he'd have to ask Bill.

If there were two things Stanford Pines hated, it was bad grammar and asking for help. He didn't mind others asking him for help, but he hated asking for it. he knew he could figure it out himself, but that could take months, years even, and the university grant committee doesn't wait that long for results. 

So he sighed, left his couch, and headed downstairs to his office-turned-meditation-room. It had several tapestries of Bill's triangular form, along with some iridescent crystal prisms. Bill insisted that they helped "strengthen his aura", but Ford was pretty sure he was just stroking his ego. Whichever way, Ford didn't mind. They had some very neat decorating qualities to them.

He sat down in the center of the prisms, practicing the breathing technique Bill taught him so he wouldn't have to knock Ford out every time he needed to talk. After a few seconds, he felt his consciousness fade slightly as a sort of dissociative feeling took over his body, and he found himself in the Mindscape, Bill's human form reading something lazily. He looked up at him and a smile flashed across his face.

"Hey IQ! Long time no see, huh? Why, me and you haven't talked in almost six hours!" He joked, standing up.

"You and I," he muttered slightly, he tendency to over-correct in ceratin situations getting the best of him. "Anyways, Bill, I need your help."

"Oh come on, no kiss?" He pouted slightly, and Ford laughed before pecking him on the cheek. "Thank you. Now, what is it, Sixer?"

"Well, you remember the theory I've been trying to develop, right? The Unified Theory of Weirdness?" He asked, and Bill gave a short nod. "I've been having some issues. There must be somewhere they come from, all these anomalies, right? But I can't find anything, so I'm... Asking for your assistance."

Bill looked thoughtful for a minute before picking up the book he was reading. He held it up for a minute, so Ford could see the cover. "You ever read this, IQ?" He asked, and Ford shook his head. In fact, he didn't even recognize the title. "Oh, it's a real interesting book, alright. It's a piece of science fiction about the existence of the multiverse. And, I'd suppose, if the multiverse theory were true, it would change science entirely, wouldn't it?" Ford was starting to catch on now. "You'd have to consider, that even something impossible here could be very possible somewhere else." He finished, a glint in his eyes Ford had never seen before.

"Wait- are you trying to say that Gravity Falls is being affected by a multiverse?" Ford asked, bewildered. He hadn't even considered that before.

Bill nodded. "And in fact, it's very accessible."

"Does that mean that, in theory, of course, one could build a gateway between dimensions?" His mind was working quickly now, already thinking of the implications this could have on the entire scientific community the amount of praise he would receive from this single theory.

"And I can show you how," Bill winked at him, and Ford nearly lost his mind.


	25. Chapter 25

Ford's brain was still reeling from the realization. A multiverse was something he had never considered for this theory, but of course, it made perfect sense. If the anomalies were leaking in from a parallel universe, then it would explain how localized they were to Gravity Falls. He stared at Bill, mouth agape in shock.

"And you never thought to tell me this before?" He asked, incredulous.

"Sorry Sixer, I didn't think it would come up!" He laughed, "Although, I am fairly certain you could handle the work of building a portal."

"Do you have details, plans, anything I could work off of?" Ford didn't need to think twice about this, proving the multiverse theory was something most scientists didn't dare to dream of, and he was about to do it. God, he'd be famous! Within a month he could be having dinner with Jimmy Carter!

"I've got some ideas, really all we need to do is connect the dots between the systems," Bill said, drawing a few things in mid-air for him to see, "Y'know, out of all the people I've inspired through the years, I'm really glad it's you I get to share my most important info with." At this, he came over and kissed him on the cheek, and Ford threw his arm around his shoulder. This was going to be great.

The next few days Ford was working double time in the mindscape, barely doing any work in the real world. He'd plan it all out there with Bill, then wake up and copy down everything he could remember, which was usually most of it. After a while, he became tired of this, the constant shift between the mindscape and the real world, and the exhaustion that followed him in both. He expressed this thought one day to Bill, who gave him a smile.

"Yeah, I get the feeling. And I think I can help," He said, an almost mischievous look crossing his face, "I have this ability, you see, to sort of posses humans. I could do the work in the real world for you, and you could get some much-needed rest, how's that sound?"

"That would be fantastic, Bill, thank you," Ford replied, incredibly grateful yet again to his muse. Bill held out his hand, and Ford shook eagerly, before waking up in his bedroom. He shook his head wearily and immediately fell back to sleep, although this time without dreams. When he awoke again, nearly nine hours later, he found a stack of completed equations on his desk, along with a note.

_Get some rest, Sixer.  
Love you,  
Bill ___

__He smiled before picking up the note and carefully folding it in his jacket pocket. He couldn't wait to get back to work._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, we reached over 300 hits! I'd like to thank the academy, my dad, and the dude at the dollar store who told me he liked my jacket. Anyway, sorry I haven't been updating as often, but y'know, l i f e. I'm also working on another little side fic, which may or may not be coming out soon(?). Until the next chapter, ciao!


	26. Chapter 26

Ford and Bill worked tirelessly for nearly three weeks before Ford began to notice a few issues. First off, where would he get the incredibly advanced technology needed for such an endeavor?

The answer was quite simple, actually: About a year prior to his work with Bill, Ford had discovered a huge, undisturbed shell of an alien ship under Gravity Falls. It had somehow remained undiscovered for what was probably centuries, but the tech was still in working order and far more advanced than what humanity would achieve in the next thousand years. He had nicknamed the spot Crash Site Omega, for no reason other than the name had a very Star Trek-ish feel about it. Ford was certain he could find some of the pieces there.

The second problem was far more difficult to solve: He was only one man. As much as he hated asking for help, Ford admitted that this was a rather large project to take on with only one (Non-physical) assistant. He had stacks of blueprints and dozens of perfectly printed equations, but without someone else to share the burden, he wouldn't get much farther than that.

He again expressed this thought to Bill, who was quickly becoming his only confidant, and he trusted him with his life. Bill hesitated for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Ford focused on his eyes for a second, the deep golden irises appearing clouded over and distant. Bill seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had been in, and shrugged. "I'm not sure, Sixer. I'll agree this isn't exactly a one-man task, but I doubt you could find someone with the intellect to rival your own." 

Ford felt his face flush at the high praise from his muse. "Thanks, Bill," He smiled, "But I think I've got someone in mind. I'll need to call up an old friend."

He left the mindscape and picked up the telephone, carefully dialing the numbers he'd been given on a Christmas card, even though he didn't celebrate Christmas. He heard the thick southern accent on the other line, and he grinned.

Fiddleford hadn't changed a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short chapter bc I wanted to write but I'm also tired. Luv u all. Byeee!


	27. Chapter 27

Fiddleford arrived late at night, exhausted from the travel and holding a briefcase. Stanford greeted him at the door with a smile; it had been so long since he'd seen his friend, they had a lot of catching up to do. 

"Hey, Fidds, long time no see, huh?" He said after greeting him. "Come on in, I have some coffee on if you'd care for some."

"Thanks, Stanford. How've you been?" He asked, walking in and setting down his briefcase on the kitchen table. "Anything interestin' in Oregon?"

"Well, besides this town, not really," He laughed, "What about you? How's Emma-May? And your son! He's got to be what, five now?" 

"Yeah, he just turned four actually. Great kid." He smiled, then pulled out some photos from his coat pocket. "Here, take a look at these. Cute, huh?"

Ford looked at the polaroids he was being handed and smiled at the cute photos of a young boy, the spitting image of Emma-May and Fidds, fishing with his dad. "At least one of us settled down, huh?" He joked, but Fidds didn't laugh.

"Yeah, I guess, but money's tight right now. I'm starting to think you've got it all figured out here, livin' alone off grant money."

Ford shrugged. "It's not so great out here, the university is constantly on my ass about projects they want me to take. You know, they made me make a mind-controlling tie for Ronald Reagan? Let me tell you, I did not vote for him that election season."

Fidds laughed, then seemed to remember something. "Speakin' of inventions, check out what I made!" He carefully pulled out a briefcase shaped object, then opened it up to reveal a screen asking for a password. "It's a portable personal computer! I call it a laptop. I made this one for you, figured it might help you with your document recordings and such. The password's just your name, but you can change it later." Fiddleford smiled at him, and Ford took it gratefully, although he planned to never use it. It was basically just a heavy, inconvenient substitute for his journals.

"Right, well, I guess I'll show you where you can stay?" He asked, then cleared his throat awkwardly, "That is, of course, if you want to stay here? I mean, it's much cheaper than a hotel, so..."

"Thanks, Stanford, that'd be swell. Have you got enough space, though?" He looked around at the cluttered tabletops and floors of his house, nearly everything was covered in pieces of his research. 

"Don't worry," He laughed, "I cleared out a room before you came. This place is a lot bigger than it looks from the outside." 

He led him to a bedroom in the back of the house, with a decent-sized pullout couch and a desk. He held the door open to let Fiddleford through.

"Alright," He said, about to leave the room, "You can make yourself at home here. We can start work tomorrow. I usually cook around nine, but fair warning, I'm not great at it."

"Thanks, Stanford. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Ford replied, then headed upstairs to get some sleep himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I'm not abandoning this work, I'm just failing polynomials so my mind is working hard. As always, I love and appreciate you guys! (Also reviews are super awesome and help me better my writing) Ciao!


	28. Chapter 28

Ford collapsed into bed after getting Fiddleford situated and almost immediately fell asleep. Just as Fidds had had a long night driving to Gravity Falls, Ford had had a long night sitting up and waiting for him. He wouldn't have wanted one of his best friends to arrive late at night and not be greeted, or accidentally be greeted by Bill possessing Ford's body, as he tended to do at night. 

He had already decided not to tell Fidds about Bill, since to a man of science like him, it would have sounded, well, crazy, and most definitely would have gotten him a one-way ticket to the nearest psych ward. He drifted slowly into sleep, then found himself in the mindscape yet again. Bill lounged around, reading a paper of some sort lazily. 

Just as he walked to stand across from him, Bill cleared his throat and began to speak. "You know," He began, waving his paper absentmindedly, "I don't trust this McGucket fellow."

"He has a first name, you know," Ford replied in an almost joking manner, then asked the obvious question. "Why not?"

"You haven't noticed anything about him?" Bill was sitting up now, spine straight as a ruler and coldness in his eyes, "He seems awfully friendly with you. The way he looks at you, that little invention he gave you. Frankly, I don't like it one bit Stanford."

Ford shuddered a bit at the use of his full name but continued on the defense of Fiddleford. "He's just a close friend, Bill. We've known each other for years. Plus, he's married. He has a kid for crying out loud!"

Bill hummed as if considering it, then nodded curtly before walking closer to him, a hand suddenly resting on Ford's cheek, gold eyes burning like a forest fire. "He had better leave you alone. You. Are. Mine." A hand curled into a fist in his hair as he put a pause of emphasis between the last three words, then gave him a quick and harsh kiss before the Mindscape dissolved around him, and Ford dreamt no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not abandoned this I swear! It's becoming obvious that daily updates aren't gonna work, but I'll try for weekly. Thank you to all previous readers, and newcomers! I love you all, and until the next chapter, ciao!


	29. Chapter 29

Ford woke up shortly after his time in the mindscape with Bill, only to find it was only five o’clock in the morning. He sighed and got up, figuring it was at least late enough to get up. He pulled on whatever clothes were closest to him and grabbed a bag; he planned to go on a long hike with Fiddleford today. 

He stumbled tiredly to the kitchen and drank a full two cups of coffee before Fidds came into the kitchen. He grinned at Ford and said “Nice sweater.” Ford looked down at what he was wearing, a Backupsmore University hoodie, and groaned, but he was too late. Fidds was already pulling on his matching one. 

“Well, what’s the plan for today Stanford?” He asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee and sitting down across from him.

“I’m presuming you’ve looked over the blueprints I gave you?” He asked, and Fidds nodded. He continued, “Well, you may have seen the number of parts on there currently unobtainable due to the technology of our time.” 

“Well yes, I did notice. You can drop all the fancy science-talk with me, Stanford, we’re friends.”

“One must always use the proper language when talking about science,” he said, but grinned anyway. “Well, about those parts, I have a place we can get them. But it's gonna be a pretty long hike. You did bring your camping gear like I asked, right?"

"I sure did, but where the hell are we hikin' to?" he asked, bewildered, "Some alien space wreck?" He laughed at his own joke, but Ford just nodded in response. Fiddleford stared at him. "We're hiking to a crashed alien spaceship?" He repeated, stunned.

"That's pretty much the gist of it all. Now come on, we should start now so we can cover a decent amount of ground before nightfall." Ford shouldered his bag and Fiddleford ran to get his stuff, and before they knew it they were off. 

The most unfortunate bit of the hike was the lack of conversation. Dense forest covered most of the area, save for a few paths, so they had to stick near the small mountains to avoid getting hopelessly lost in the pine trees. While Ford was having no problem climbing the steep rocks, it was clear Fidds was having some trouble, and Ford carried his bag for him more than once. Eventually, they came to a small landing near the path that would serve as a campground for the night. They set up, and Fiddleford took out an inhaler and caught his breath.

"Wait, you have asthma Fidds?" Ford asked, not previously knowing this about his friend.

"Yeah, was diagnosed last year," He replied, getting some tent poles out of his bag. "Inhalers are expensive though, so I only use it when I need to."

"Well, let me carry your bag for the next uphill stretch then," He offered, and shook his head when Fidds protested. "Really, I insist. I can handle it, I assure you.

Fiddleford relented, and they got the tent set up for the night. They got a decent fire going as well, and they found themselves laughing over old stories just like they used to back in Uni. They even chatted about the new season of Star Trek, and how good Indiana Jones had been, and rumors of a sequel. it was just like old times. They ate some of the "trail rations" they had on them, which mostly consisted of fruit roll-ups, trail mix, and beef jerky. Eventually, they put out their fire and retired to the tent for the night, where they turned on a flashlight and continued to tell stories and make jokes.

"...And that was the very last time my uncle Billy broke the law he was responsible for," Fidds had just finished his last story, and it had them both almost in tears laughing. When they finally quieted down, there was silence for a beat, both of them just looking at each other in the small tent, so, so, close to each other. 

Before Ford even realized what he was doing, he found himself leaning forward, eyes closed, then felt his own lips mesh against Fiddleford's. Then, as quickly as it had happened, Ford opened his eyes, unaware of the fact the Fiddleford's were still closed, and pushed out of the tent, lighting a cigarette as he went.

He had always been a stress smoker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all, feedback is appreciated, etc, etc. Ciao!


	30. Chapter 30

Im just writing this chapter because we reacher 420 hits and OMG THATS THE FUNNY NUMBER HAHA BLAZE IT

anyway next chapter will be out soon


	31. Chapter 31

Fiddleford didn't follow Ford when he left the tent, thank God. He wasn't sure if it would ever be mentioned again, but he wasn't opposed to the idea of never talking about the kiss. He hadn't even registered it when he did it. Something about being with Fiddleford felt right in a way he couldn't explain. It was comfortable, and fun, and...

...Well, it reminded him of Tom.

But Fidds was married and had a young son. Ford was in a relationship with Bill, even if he only saw him in the Mindscape. They wouldn't be together, and they couldn't be together. That was just how it was, and Ford had no power to change that. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to. He didn't know what he wanted anymore. Why was he even out here? Why not just finish his work without the portal? He could publish the research he had right now and make a break for it with the money, go buy a boat and sail away without a second thought to anything.

He wouldn't. 

There was too much to be discovered, too much to be learned, too much to be dreamt about. Whether it was his research or Fiddleford, Ford knew it wasn't about the logical response or the better course of action. It was about taking a risk and hoping for a payoff. In that sense, he was not unlike his estranged brother, a gambler since their youth.

"Sometimes you gotta take a risk, Sixer," Stanley had told him, one summer when they were twelve. He had lost nearly three dollars in a card game on the dock that day and was determined to win it back.

Maybe Ford was like that too, as little as he'd care to admit it. Having lost something, he was determined to win it all back, no matter the risk.

Whatever, no more deep philosophical thinking tonight. He'd already finished a second cigarette while sitting on an outcrop of rock a good ten feet away from the tent, and he was fairly certain Fidds was asleep. He crept quietly into the tent and took his sleeping bag out, feeling too ashamed to sleep in the tent with him. He set it up near the dying embers of the campfire they had made earlier, and fell asleep quickly, knowing that Bill wouldn't be visiting tonight. They had agreed that Bill wouldn't be there during their little camping trip, since if Fidds suspected anything it would be difficult to explain.

He woke at dawn to find Fidds was already up, cooking something on the embers still left over. 

"Mornin' Stanford, I toasted a bagel for you," He greeted cheerfully, tossing him the bagel. "We just need to pack up a few more things, then I suppose we can move on."

"Uh, Yeah, alright," Ford responded, figuring Fidds had chosen to ignore last night too.

They packed up everything, and for the next smaller upward stretch, Ford carried his friend's bag just like they'd agreed, even though Fiddleford still protested. By noon they finally reached the flat area of the mountainous terrain they'd been climbing and took a quick break to drink some water and admire the view. As they looked out over the giant pine forest, Fidds turned toward him.

"Emma-May wants a divorce," He began casually. "She hasn't told me yet, but I saw the papers before I left."

"I'm sorry, Fidds. Are you alright?" Ford asked as kindly as he could.

He shrugged in response. "I'm fine, I guess. Not much to it, is there?" He asked rhetorically, then sighed. "Anyways, the only reason I'm bringin' this up is because of last night."

There it was. Ford had known this was coming, and he felt the apology fall from his lips, clumsily and rushed, "About that, I just, I don't know, I was dumb, and--"

"Oh, hush Stanford," Fiddleford cut him off. "All I'm saying is a little vacation affair never hurt anybody, not when she's already wantin' a divorce."

"So you're saying... That if the situation were to arise then you wouldn't be opposed to the idea of, in a hypothetical sense, kissing me again? In a more controlled and consensual environment, obviously." Ford asked, the words coming out in a rush, and he found himself again using formal language, a habit he fell into while nervous.

"Stanford, I told you to drop the science talk," Fidds replied, rolling his eyes, "But yeah." Suddenly, yet gently, he reached over and cupped Ford's cheek with his hand, and pulled him into a soft, slow kiss. Once they broke apart again, both their faces were noticeably flush, and Fiddleford asked quietly, "Are all men good kissers, or just you?"

"It's a talent," Ford shrugged and pulled him closer again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before any of you even think about commenting on this, you CAN toast a bagel on a campfire. I used to do it all the time. Yea I'm doing fiddauthor and none of you can stop me because it's my fic and I get to choose the ships. (also I've just realized this has serious Brokeback Mountain vibes oops-) Please leave a review they make my soul happy. Time is fake, the next chapter will be out in the future. Until then, ciao!


	32. Chapter 32

Ford and Fidds continued their trek through the forest and mountains before finally arriving at a small open field. Ford smiled quickly before setting down his stuff and running around tapping his foot in different places, listening for the hollow bang that would indicate he had found the hatch. Fiddleford looked at him like he was insane while he did this, but dropped his stuff beside Ford's anyway and followed him.

"Stanford, I really don't know about this. I mean, aliens in Oregon? What kind of a bad Sci-Fi movie is this?" Fidds said, crossing his arms and shaking his head skeptically. Just as he said this, Ford finally found where the hatch would be, and brushed aside the loose dirt that had accumulated since the last time he'd been there, he opened the hatch gingerly, then gestured down the hole.

"I told you! Crash Site omega, here we come!" He said grandly, and Fiddleford just stared. "You might want to leave your stuff out here, we shouldn't be long as long as the security system doesn't act up, and it's a bit of a tight squeeze down there."

Ford began climbing down the slightly rusted metal rungs into the ship, and Fidds stared a few more seconds, incredulous, before following.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter because I haven't updated in a bit, and WE JUST REACHED 500 HITS! WOOHOO! This is vv neat, and I'm so glad that so many people took time out of their lives to read gay fanfiction about a show that ended 6 years ago. Until the next chapter, ciao!

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be my first multi-chapter work, I will try to update every day or every other day. Please understand that if a chapter is late, it's probably because I was trying to write a difficult topic that I relate to and I am having a breakdown. Please be patient. I love reviews, even if it's just an unrelated comment I want to see it! Say hello to someone! Make a friend! Tell me your favorite colour! Until then, see ya later nerds!


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